The Ragged Edge of Nowhere
by NCCJFAN
Summary: After five years of marriage, Woody files for divorce. Jordan copes by running...but he re-enters her life in a very different way. Not like anything else I've written...FINISHED
1. The Papers

**Disclaimer: If I owned them, I would be very wealthy lady.... I don't...sigh.**

**Note: This is very different than other W/J fanfics I've written**

* * *

**Chapter One**

She couldn't believe everything had gone so wrong.

Jordan stared down at the papers on her desk in total disbelief…how did things get so bad? She blinked back the tears from her eyes as she picked up the papers and held them in hands that were shaking so badly she had to grip the document tightly to keep it from scattering all over the floor of her office. Not believing her eyes, she re-read the papers one more time _Divorce Decree_…How could he…without telling her first?

Five years. They had been married for five years. Five years that had started out as one of the best times of her life and then had dissolved around her feet like sea foam before today…and today her life had completely washed out with the tides.

She had married Woody. He had asked and she had said yes…sometimes she hadn't known if he just wore her defenses down or if she had simply been too tired to resist him any longer. Her dad had still been gone…she was working at the morgue and the bar. She was lonely and so was he…she had started seeing him outside of work more frequently and before she knew what was happening, he had stolen her heart. Completely. Then, with his mid-western values kicking in, he had asked her to marry him. And she had said yes. She loved him and felt her heart was safe with him.

So on a warm June evening, with her father by her side, Jordan had walked down the aisle of St. Inez Catholic Church and was married to her best friend…Woody. It had been asweet and lovely ceremony, with her in a simple, classically cut white dress and veil and Woody looking handsome in a black tux. There had been a huge party at the Pogue and the couple had settled down into a small house not far from his office and her morgue. A life of domestic bliss had awaited them….she had finally hoped for normal things…cooking dinner for the two of them…cleaning house…doing laundry…maybe a couple of kids in the future.

And then last year, everything had started falling apart. Jordan knew exactly when it happened. Woody had gotten a new partner…a female partner. Jordan had never been one to be jealous, but as Woody was spending more and more time with this woman, she became suspicious that there may be more going on than just police work. She had confronted Woody. He had denied it. "If you don't love me anymore, tell me," she pleaded. "I just want to know…" He had turned away from her and left the house…and didn't come back for two more days. She had begged him to go to counseling…and he did, only to declare that nothing was wrong…he didn't like being accused of something he didn't do. But to tell the truth, he said, he was tired of all the hours she had to work…she just didn't have time for him any longer.

She had tried to change her schedule. She had asked Garret for shorter hours…only to find that her seemingly "safe" work place fell apart. Bug went back to Liverpool…he was offered a job in England. So he was gone, taking Lily with him. And Nigel…her ever-present friend and co-conspirator, had left for greener pastures in Phoenix. It was just Jordan and Garret and a bunch of new, inexperienced ME's. Until they were trained…she couldn't cut her hours back. Garret stayed on her back nearly all the time now… was she training the new employees, was her paperwork caught up…and "please, don't get pregnant now, Jordan. I need you more than ever."

That, coupled with the bar, sealed her future. Since her father had returned, she only had worked occasionally there, usually only when her dad needed a night off. Max had made her a partner, but didn't expect her to be there every night until a few weeks last month. Max had gotten remarried and wanted a long honeymoon with his new wife, Ruth. Jordan was glad to oblige, happy to see her father finally having someone in his life to care for him.

But instead of joining her at the bar like he used to, Woody had gone elsewhere. She hadn't really noticed too much at first, but later, it bothered her. Now she wondered just where he had been. Before, during hectic times like this, Woody had been her solace. He wasn't there for her this time.

_I guess I'm lucky it lasted this long with me_, Jordan thought, reading the divorce papers through one more time. _At least I know what it was like…to be in love…be married. I can carry those memories with me._ Looking out the window of her office, she made a decision. Turning around to her computer she typed her letter of resignation to Garret. She signed it, sealed it in an envelope, and left it on the center of his desk. He would get it tomorrow morning. Then she walked back into her office, signed the divorce papers, and pulled off her wedding and engagement rings. She laid them on top of the papers in the middle of her desk. She got her coat and her pocketbook, turned off the light, and shut the door. She'd never be back.

She used to be really good at running. She had done it several times. Now would be no different, except then, she always kept Boston in the back of her mind. But now there was nothing tying her to the city any longer. Her dad had someone that would be there for him…Ruth. Jordan had nothing left here. Her morgue family had changed so much she didn't even recognize it any longer. Her marriage to Woody was over. So she threw some clothes in bag, grabbed her guitar, and got in her rag top jeep. Woody was at work. He wouldn't know she was gone until much later tonight when he got home. Determinedly, she started her jeep, backed out of their driveway, and pointed the vehicle west. She wasn't sure where she was going. She'd know when she got there.


	2. You Rolled the Dice, She Called Your Blu...

**Chapter Two**

He had to get to her…fast. When his lawyer's office called and said they were delivering the divorce papers today, he had been on a crime scene. He didn't check his voice mail until much later. Now he was sure if she hadn't already been served with the papers, they were on their way.

He wanted to tell her the papers were coming before they arrived. He didn't want to catch her that much off guard. It was late in the afternoon, but she should still be in her office. God knows, she practically lived there now that Nigel and Bug had quit. He didn't wait for the elevators, he took the stairs, all the way up to the ninth floor. He made a dash for her office, only to see Garret sitting in his…staring into nothingness. Somewhat startled at the chief ME's demeanor, he paused long enough to ask, "Garret, are you all right?"

Garret threw the papers he was holding in his fingers down on his desk. "She's resigned."

Woody didn't have to ask who he was talking about. "What?"

"She's resigned."

Shocked, he asked, "Did she say why?"

"No. She just said she was quitting. Told me to have her last paychecks direct deposited into her Pogue account. And due to the amount of vacation and personal time she had accrued, the resignation was effective immediately. She's gone."

Woody took the papers from the nerveless fingers of the ME. He read them over…nothing was said about the divorce. Throwing them down on Garret's desk, he made a run for her office. Flinging open the door, a glitter caught his eye. On her desk was the divorce papers, neatly signed and dated. Sitting on top of them were her rings…her beautiful half-carat engagement ring and her wedding band. He swallowed hard. He had been too late to warn her. He had hoped the decree would just shock her into realizing just how badly their relationship had dissolved. He had hoped it would slow them down enough to realize how serious the situation was…and give them impetus to work on it. Make her recognize what was really important. Instead, she had signed the papers.

She wasn't supposed to do that.

He walked over to the desk and sat down. Garret followed him in, reading the papers on her desk. "So now I know why," he said, looking at Woody. "Now I know why she resigned."

"Yeah," Woody replied in a lifeless voice.

"Didn't think she'd sign them?"

"No…I just wanted to try to make her realize how serious this situation was...that we were what was important, not her job…not anything else."

Garret snorted. "You picked a strange way to do that."

"I tried everything else."

Sighing, the chief ME looked at the detective. "I bet you any money she's run again."

Startled, Woody looked up at Garret. Quickly getting up from the chair and pocketing her rings, he left the morgue, making his way home as fast as he could. Her running had never crossed his mind.

* * *

She was gone. When he got home, there was a note on her side of the bed. _Keep everything. Keep the whole damn lot…I don't want it. Do whatever you wish to with the house, the car, the furniture. I don't care._ He sank down on the bed. His plan to get her attention had gone horribly, horribly wrong. Running his fingers through his hair, he thought about what he should do next. She had taken her clothes, some jewelry, her laptop, her guitar…and nothing else. He flicked on his computer and went on-line, checking their bank balances. That told him the whole story. She had taken half of their money…to the exact penny. She had withdrawn it that afternoon. Pushing the panic that was welling up in him aside, he dialed her cell phone. No answer. He left a voice mail. She had caller id. She probably wouldn't answer him for several days, anyway. Next, he dialed Garret's number.

"Macy," said the ME.

"Garret, it's Woody. Has she called? Have you heard anything at all?"

"No. And since she didn't take a morgue vehicle, there's no GPS system to track her with." All the morgue cars and vans had GPS devices in them. Jordan took her personal vehicle – no GPS.

"Do you have any idea where she could have gone?" Woody sounded desperate.

Garret reflected for a minute…his mind running through his mental files of Jordan's past. She hadn't been on the run for years….and certainly not since she was married. "No," he finally answered. "The last time she ran, she went to LA. I just don't have the feeling she'd go there this time. She knows that would be the first place I'd look. I don't think Jordan wants to be found. At least not right now. So I don't know, Woody. I'm sorry." Garret wasn't sure what he was sorrier for…that Jordan had run or that the divorce had blown up in Woody's face.

"Thanks," Woody whispered, as he hung up. There was only one other person that may have some idea where Jordan had gone. He put on his coat and headed over to the Pogue.

* * *

"Evening, son," Max called out to his son-in-law. "It's been a while. You still like a Scotch, neat?"

Woody nodded, allowing Max to pour him the drink, then letting it burn a trail of semi-comfort down his throat, savoring the feel of the warmth.

"Where's Jordan?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm here, Max."

"She's not here, Woody."

If only it would have been that simple. To come in and find her at their table, or on a bar stool talking to her father. "That's not what I mean. She's left, Max."

"She left you?" Max's voice rose with the question. He knew his daughter. He knew she loved her husband. "What happened?"

Slowly, painfully, Woody told Max the story…about her long hours, his resentment, her seeming unwillingness to change…what he had done to finally try to get her attention. "I didn't mean for it to happen this way…to end this way," he said.

Max blew out a deep sigh. "I have no idea where she would have gone, son. She hasn't been by here, and I haven't talked to her this week at all."

Woody nodded. He figured as much, but knew he had to let his father-in-law know his daughter was missing…gone. "I don't know what to do next," he confessed.

"There's nothing you can do, Woody. You rolled the dice. She called your bluff."

"What's going to happen?" he asked. His voice carried the tone of desperation that Max had often heard echoing in his own life.

"I don't know. She'll call. At some point, she'll at least call me and let me know she's safe. She always has. She always will. I'll let you know when she does."


	3. Phoenix, Arizona

**Chapter Three**

She drove for miles, ignoring her cell phone's insistent ringing…just concentrating on driving, the miles slipping by….putting distance between herself and Boston….putting distance between herself and him. The first night, she drove until she couldn't keep her tired eyes open any longer. Pulling into a Hotel Six just off the interstate, she had checked in under the name Jordan Cavanaugh….a last name she hadn't used in five years. Woody had told her she could keep her maiden name…he didn't care, he just wanted her. But she had wanted to take his last name…wanted to be his wife in the fullest sense of the word….she loved him. She wouldn't lose her identity if she followed tradition…right?

So she became Dr. Jordan Marie Cavanaugh Hoyt ... Mrs. Woodrow Wilson Hoyt … The only person that would slip up and call her anything remotely by her old name was Emmy….she'd always called Jordan "Dr. C." And she didn't lose her identity. She was still the same old Jordan. Only she was married. And just like she would with any other detective, she and Woody still went toe-to-toe over the forensic evidence if she thought he was wrong. They had been able to leave it all in the office….until last year. It followed them home and seemed to circle around them, wreathing them in constant discontent. On reflection, it wasn't the cases that bothered Jordan so much, it was Amy, Woody's new co-worker. Amy was his partner…she was entrenched in all his cases…more deeply than Jordan.

She hadn't regarded the young girl as a threat then. She was young…younger than Jordan…blonde…green eyes. She just hadn't seemed like Woody's type. But soon phrases like "Amy thinks this," or "Amy says that," were coming out of his mouth too frequently for her to be comfortable with. Thus the confrontation. And that's when everything went down hill. She sighed as she paid for her room in cash…that way no one could track her. She was out of his life now. He could have all of Amy he wanted.

* * *

Woody flipped his cell phone shut, leaned back in the kitchen chair, and looked out the window at the sun beginning its ascent over the city through the window. He was still in his suit from yesterday, a day's worth of stubble peppered across his face, tie hanging limply around his neck. She wasn't answering her phone…not that he expected her to. At least not right now. He had filled up her voice mail…First it was messages asking her "How could you leave?" Later, as the hours slipped by and he knew she wasn't coming back, the messages had changed… "Where are you?" "Are you all right?" And finally, "Please come home, Jordan. We need to talk…please…come back." He never asked her why she left. That was glaringly apparent.

She wasn't answering and she wasn't checking her voice mail…it was full and had been full since midnight. All he could do was call her number and pray she would answer. His prayers went unheeded and unheard. Running his fingers through his hair, he got up and put on a pot of coffee. He needed to shower, shave, and get ready for work. That would serve to distract his mind from her for a while, although he wasn't sure what good he would really be to the fine citizens of Boston today. His body may be at the precinct, but his mind would be trying to follow her…trying to figure out where his wife was and what, if anything, he could do to get her to talk to him….or bring her back to Boston.

* * *

Jordan filled up her jeep with gas and continued to head southwest now….she still wasn't sure yet where she was going. The interstate was her lifeline. She was blindly following it to see where she would land….and in what condition she would be in when she got there. She had no real destination in mind, but she had enough cash to last her several weeks. And when Garret deposited her paychecks in her account, she'd be in even better shape. That would give her enough time to choose a town and settle in…find some kind of job. She didn't really care if she went back to being a medical examiner or not. She really didn't care about much of anything.

He had called last night – just as he had every night. Every hour. Then every half hour. Before her phone's battery had died, it was every fifteen minutes. She didn't answer. At least Garret had the good grace to leave her the hell alone for a little while, but she expected he'd call in a day or two, just to check in. From experience, Max would wait on her to call. Woody had filled her voice mail…and she deleted every message without listening to it. She didn't really need to hear what he was saying right now. She didn't want to. She didn't want excuses or explanations. She wanted her life back. Her married life. With him.

But that wasn't going to happen…he had filed for divorce, she signed the papers and left him her rings. She left him the house and their belongings. She took only what was hers and half the money, which the court would have awarded her anyway. What more did he want from her? What more did he expect?

She pulled off the interstate after driving for about four hours to stretch her legs and get her bearings. Pulling a map of the United States from her glove compartment, she studied it. The whole North American hemisphere was hers now…to do whatever she wanted to with and to enjoy it as much as she desired. She glanced towards the left side of the map, still determined to put as much space between her and Boston as she could. Kentucky… Mississippi… Texas…. Oklahoma … Arizona… _That's it…Phoenix,_ she thought. Flipping her cell phone open, she dialed his number. He answered on the second ring.

"Nigel Townsend," His rich, English accent filled her ears with familiarity and comfort.

"Nige….it's Jordan."

"Love! How are you?"

"Please….don't ask," she replied, her voice breaking just a bit.

"Jordan…are you all right?" Concern laced his words. He could hear the cars on the interstate and wondered just what his girl was up to …. What mess had she gotten herself into now?

"No. I'm not. I'm not all right….it's just…anyway…are you still in Phoenix?"

"Certainly. I'm working at the morgue here…and not going anywhere else for a long while."

"Can…can….I come see you, Nigel?"

"Of course. Where are you at now?"

"Ohio." Nigel could hear the tears in her voice.

"Come on, love. Come to Phoenix. And get here just as fast as you safely can. I'll be waiting."


	4. Long Lost Love Affairs

**Chapter Four**

She pulled into Phoenix three days later. She called him once she passed the city limit sign to get directions to the Arizona State Medical Examiners Office. He met her in the lobby.

"Jordan, love," he said, as she came through the door.

"Nige…" was all she managed to get out before he caught her up in a tight hug. She looked like hell…she appeared as if she hadn't slept in days nor had eaten in as many, either.

"Let me see you, lass," he finally said, needing to take a closer look at her. "What's the matter Jordan? You didn't tell me anything over the phone the other night."

"Is there somewhere we can talk, Nige? Somewhere private?"

"Sure there is. Let me call upstairs and tell them I'm taking an early lunch." Nigelcalled his office from his cell phone while escorting her out of the doors to the building and into a nearby coffee shop. Sitting down with her in the furthermost back booth, he gave their order to the waitress and asked that they not be disturbed. The waitress dropped off their coffee cups, plus a full pot, and left them alone.

"Tell me Jordan. Tell me what's wrong. What brings you to Phoenix? Does Macy know you're here? What about Woody?" She would never know the hell he went through the days following her phone call. He heard her voice quivering over the connection…that time, and all the times he had called her back to make sure she was okay and heading in his direction. She had asked him not to let anyone know she was coming. He hadn't.

She swallowed hard, to try to get the lump out of her throat. It didn't work. So hesitantly, she began, deciding to tell everything as quickly as she could and get it out in the open. "Woody filed for divorce. I resigned my job. Here I am."

Stunned, Nigel asked the only thing that came to his mind. "What?"

"Woody filed for divorce. It's a long story. What it boils down to is this…you and Bug left the morgue about the same time…and I've caught it ever since. We've got new ME's but they're young and green. I've been working more hours than you even want to imagine. Meanwhile, Dad decides to remarry and takes an extended honeymoon, so I'm left dealing with the bar and Garret going ballistic on me. I didn't have a lot of time for my husband…I haven't had for months." She lowered her head to try to control the tears she felt coming to her eyes. "So, meanwhile, Woody gets a new partner….a young, pretty, female partner…Needless to say…" she choked then, putting her fist over her mouth to try to control the quivering of her chin and lips.

She didn't have to say anymore. She had painted Nigel a very descript, vivid picture. "Oh, love. I am sorry. So sorry." And he was. The Jordan and Woody love story had been a long saga he had personally witnessed. When those two had finally said "I do" it gave hope to every romantic cynic in Boston. Even him. "So you resigned your job at the Massachusetts morgue and ran away, didn't you?"

She nodded.

"Does Garret know you're here?"

"No. I just typed my resignation and left it on his desk."

"And Woodrow has no clue, either?"

"No."

"Max?"

"No."

Nigel sighed. "You at least need to call your father and let him know you're all right, Jordan."

"I am. I just wanted to get where I was going before I did."

"So you want to land in Phoenix for a while?"

"I was hoping to….I need a friend right now, and you've always been one of my best friends."

"You'll like Phoenix, Jordan. It's a great city…more relaxed than Boston. It's beautiful here….the desert…I can't really describe it well. It's something you have to witness for yourself."

"I'm looking forward to seeing it all, Nige."

"We have a ME out on extended maternity leave and have been looking for a fill-in for her. I can see if my chief will hire you…I don't think it will be a problem. Of course, the job will only be temporary, at least to begin with – Shanna is only going to be gone about six months. She had twins…and there were some complications. But if Dr. Daniels likes you, it could become a permanent position."

Jordan swallowed the rest of her coffee. Even if it was only six months, it would give her time to get her bearings. "Sounds great."

"I'll ask him as soon as we get back to my office."

"Nige…one more thing."

"What love?"

"Can I stay with you…just for a couple of weeks until I can find a place?"

Nigel regarded her for a second. "Sure. Ronnie and I would love to have you."

Jordan was startled. Before she could stop herself, it came out of her mouth… "Ronnie?"

Nigel chuckled at her stunned face and raised eyebrows. "Veronica Ann Evans. Ronnie for short. I met her about three months after I got here. We dated for a while and moved in together a couple of months ago. She's an artist and is co-owner of a gallery here. She's tiny and feisty, and my soul mate. In every sense of the word. You'll see as soon as you meet her."

Jordan smiled. She was glad for her friend. Even if things hadn't worked out for her as far as relationships go, she was glad that it had for Nigel. He had waited a long time to find the right one. He deserved the happiness that this relationship was obviously bringing him. "I'm so happy for you, Nige." She reached out and squeezed his hand.

"Yeah. Thanks. I'm happy for me, too. I love her even more than I did you…back then. And I didn't think that was possible."

Back then. The words still stung just a bit. It had been the best-kept secret in the morgue, and as far as Jordan could conclude, she and Nigel were the only ones that knew they had once been lovers. It had been happened right after she returned to Boston from LA and met him. The affair had been brief, but intense. In the end, they broke it off, deciding that it was too difficult to maintain their relationship because of working so closely together. They had decided to remain friends. A decision Jordan had never regretted, but she had often wondered what her life would have been like if she and Nigel would have stayed together…she had thought about it more frequently in the past few weeks.

She had broken one of her cardinal rules by having the affair with Nigel: Don't get romantically involved with a co-worker. When it was over between the two of them, she had put herself back together privately. But Nigel must have been aware on some level that she was still struggling being without him at night, while still seeing him during the day. He had been more than compassionate to her…helping her withdraw from the finality of the failed relationship a little at the time. In the end, it had all worked out for the best, or so he had thought.

Nigel had been the one to pick up the sensitive chemistry that was brewing between Jordan and Woody years before either of them took the first step toward the other. He had tried to nurture that relationship for them, encouraging Jordan to follow her heart… "I don't think you'll get hurt this time, love," he had told her, gently running his fingers through her hair. "Woody's different from the other detectives and from most of the men in Boston. He's got those solid, Midwestern values that you often ridicule but need so desperately in your life. Give it a try. For me?" he had asked her.

And she had. For him and for herself…she had broken her cardinal rule one more time: she got romantically involved with a co-worker. Woody. And she had lost her heart one more time. If she swore if she ever got the pieces of her broken heart put back together, she'd be damned if she'd ever break that rule again.


	5. An Empty House Full of Memories

**Chapter Five**

He didn't know what to do. He had called and left messages. She didn't call him back. There had been no activity on her credit cards. He even had Sydney try to tag her on the computer…to see if the GPS on her cell phone would tell him anything, if her social security number had been used recently…her ME license number. Nothing. It was as if she had dropped off the face of the earth…out of bounds…out of his reach.

Still, each night he called. She had been gone nearly a month now. The divorce papers were sitting on the kitchen table at their house. She hadn't called the Massachusetts morgue once, or Garret's personal cell phone. He had urged Garret to try to get in touch her…maybe she would answer Garret's calls.

"Why, Woody?" Garret had asked him. "Jordan's a grown woman. She's done this before…run to get away from it all for a while. Give her some time. If she hasn't called me by the end of the month, I'll phone her. I can't guarantee she'll take my call…but she'll resurface at some point. She'll have to."

Woody knew it was all true. But that didn't stop him from worrying. About her. About them. If there was a "them" anymore.

Feeling restless one night after work, he stopped by the Pogue. To have a Scotch and see if Max had by chance, heard anything out of her. As soon as he entered the bar, Max motioned him over to the side. "I was just about to call you," he said.

"You've heard from her?"

"Yeah. About fifteen minutes ago. She called. She wouldn't say where she was, just that she was going to be there for a while. And that she was fine. And for me not to worry."

"What did the phone number come up as on your caller id?"

"Just her regular Boston cell phone number."

"So she hasn't had her phone turned off."

Max shook his head. "Nope. I told her that you wanted to talk to her. That she needed to call you…and to come back to Boston. She said she didn't know when or if she'd ever be back here, and that she had signed the divorce papers – you shouldn't have any questions. She didn't want the house or anything in it."

Woody sighed. "So she won't even talk to me."

"You've hurt her bad, Woody. She was doing everything she knew how…she just had too many demands on her. Work. Me and the bar. Being your wife. She knew things were going to settle down with her soon. You just got too impatient. Instead of sitting down and talking to her directly, you ran a full-out offense. And it blew up in your face. I'm sorry, son. I think in Jordan's mind, as much as she doesn't want the marriage to be over, it is. She's trying to move on."

He felt totally lost…and angry at himself…and ashamed. He left the bar to go to the morgue. She had called Max, maybe she had called Garret.

"No…not a word out of her," Garret had said, answering Woody's question. "I am glad she called her father. That way Max won't worry so much."

"Yeah. Me, too. I just wish…"

"She'd call you back…just for a few minutes?"

Woody nodded. She had no idea how much he missed her voice…not to mention her eyes…and her curled up next to him in the morning. He swallowed hard. "Has Sydney had any hits with her information on the computer?"

"If he has, he hasn't said…but he's been up to his eyes in autopsy today. He's in his office…go ask him."

Woody walked across the hall to what used to be Nigel's old office. If he listened hard, he could still hear Nigel's voice, with that English accent, greeting him…. "Hello, Woodrow." So much had changed…

"Hey, Sydney…I was just wondering if you had gotten any information on Jordan yet?"

"Detective Hoyt…No. But I haven't really been keeping up with it. Jordan's leaving has kind of left us in a bind here…I'm working all kinds of hours…" Sydney replied, his voice carrying a tone of almost uncaring flippancy.

Feeling the anger rising in him, Woody replied, "That's why we need to see if we can find her. To get her back."

"Look. She resigned. And from what I understand, it had to do more with personal problems with her _husband_ than any problems here at the morgue. But the way she left sure has caused problems for all of us here."

Woody had opened his mouth to put the ME in his place when Garret stepped in. "Sydney. You will look for Jordan. Despite the fact that she is no longer an employee with the Massachusetts State Medical Examiners Office, she left in good standing. She was a responsible, hard working ME while she was here, as well as a good friend. We're all worried about her. And if you remember correctly, she's worked long hours for the past three months to get you trained and up-to-par. You owe her at least a few minutes of your time to make sure she's safe."

Sydney swallowed hard, visibly nervous. "Yes, sir, Dr. Macy," he replied quietly. He checked his computer screen and shook his head. "No hits. We don't know where she is at yet."

* * *

He went home then…to an empty house full of memories. Jordan had loved that house. It was nothing fancy. They couldn't afford fancy. It was just a simple two bedroom, wooden-frame, New England clapboard-style house. It had a small, eat-in kitchen, a larger great room with a fireplace. It was perfect for them…they had thought it would remain perfect until after they decided to have children.

She had decorated it in quintessential Jordan-style. A little old. A little new. A little funky. Her Indigo Girls poster hung in the laundry room. His antique robot collection had a spot in the great room. It was perfect melding of the two of them. He came in and shut the door, making his way to the bedroom to undress, his eyes falling onto the queen-sized bed. That was the one piece of furniture she had insisted on having her way about. It was a beautiful, four-poster bed with the tops of the posters actually leaning in towards each other and intertwining at the top. She said it reminded her of Penelope's marriage bed in _The Odyssey_ – the one made out of an entire tree….the one that would last as long as Penelope's and Odysseus's marriage – one that would last as long as theirs. He could barely bring himself to sleep in it now.

He laid down on it, trying to see if her side of the bed still retained her scent. The first time he had made love to her as his wife was in this bed. It had been late when they got home from their reception at the Pogue. They decided to leave for the coast the next day. Instead, he had taken her to bed…made her his wife in every sense of the word. The corners of his mouth turned up softly at the memories.

So how could he have let things get so bad? He cursed himself one more time. How could he do that to her? To them? Rubbing his arm across his eyes, he picked up his cell phone again, getting up and walking into the kitchen, dialing a number at the same time.

"Robertson's and Neal's office," said a professional-sounding voice on the other end.

"Mr. Robertson?"

"Yes?"

"This is Woody Hoyt. I had you file some divorce papers on my wife a few weeks ago…"

"Ah. Yes. Mr. Hoyt. Did she receive them?"

"Yeah. Yes, she did. And she signed them. I have them with me. I was just wondering…her signing them…does that make the divorce final?"

"No, Mr. Hoyt. Until you bring them in here and I file them, the divorce is not final."

"So…we're still married?"

"Yes. Very much so."

After thanking his attorney for clarifying the matter, Woody hung up. He walked across the room to the kitchen table. He picked up the divorce decree, tore it in half, and fed it down the garbage disposal.


	6. Damn Him

**Chapter Six**

Phoenix was being good to Jordan. She discovered she loved the climate. It was warm and the air was dry. No cold Boston mornings. No ice. No snow. Just fantastic sunsets and great Tex-Mex food.

Nigel had taken her home with him and introduced to Veronica. With dark purple hair, several piercings, and a tattoo or two, Ronnie was every inch the individualistic artist that Nigel had described. She also was every inch his soul mate…in a way Jordan could never have been. Sometimes Jordan had to leave the room when the couple was together…not because they did anything to make her feel uncomfortable, but because the love between the two was nearly tangible. It made her ache for what she could have had…what she used to have with Woody.

Ronnie proved to be a great friend to Jordan. She knew all about Jordan's and Nigel's past…but said it was just that…history. She helped Jordan settle in and when the time was right, helped her find a rental house close by. She listened when Jordan needed to talk, and patted her back when the ME had a rough day. Ronnie was the friend that Jordan needed.

And Nigel was right behind her. He had talked to Dr. Daniels….got her an interview. Dr. Daniels hired her on the spot. Jordan had been thrilled, but asked that the morgue keep her hiring quiet. The medical examiner community was small…hiring, resignations, firings…the word tended to travel fast. He promised he could do that as long as her assignment was temporary. If something happened and they kept her on permanently, he couldn't assure her that word wouldn't get out she had moved from Boston to Phoenix. Curious, he had asked Nigel what had gone on at the Massachusetts morgue…had Jordan left on bad terms?

"No," Nigel had replied.

"Is she hiding from her former boss?"

"No…from her ex-husband."

Wrinkling his brow in concern, Dr. Daniels had to ask, "Why…was the guy abusive?"

Nigel shook his head. "No. Woody wasn't abusive….the divorce just took Jordan by surprise. She doesn't want him to know where she's at right now…at least until she can get her internal compass lined up again."

Dr. Daniels had nodded and kept her employment as low-key as possible. To Jordan, it was nearly like old times….Nigel and she working together. The fog was slowly lifting…she was beginning to feel her head clear and was beginning to think rationally again. She no longer cried herself to sleep at night. She was trying to plan for the future.

Noticing the gradual changes in Jordan, Ronnie took her one of her gallery openings and introduced her to some friends of hers…single, male friends. Jordan had a good time…she had never been to an art gallery opening, although she had been in Ronnie's studio numerous times to watch her paint…a process that fascinated Jordan.

Nigel had wanted a full report after she returned home. "So, how'd it go?" he asked.

"It was nice. They served good wine. The paintings were wonderful."

"The men Ronnie introduced you to….how'd that go, love?"

"Okay."

"Just okay?"

"I'm not ready, Nigel. I appreciate the thought….I really do. But I'm not ready yet."

Nigel sighed. Then a stray, troubling thought ran through his mind. "Say, Jordan. Is your divorce final yet?"

The statement struck her cold. Final. Her divorce. She shook herself. She knew it was coming…she shouldn't be so shocked over the statement. "I have no clue, Nigel. I didn't have a lawyer. I just signed the papers, told him I didn't want a damn thing, took my money and got out of Boston."

"So you have no idea if the papers have been filed or not?"

"No…not at all." Now she was beginning to be concerned. But surely Woody had his lawyer file them by now.

"Let's check out the Boston legal data bases and have a look see, love. Just to make sure everything is truly final and you can move on." Nigel turned on his computer and began the search while Jordan watched over his shoulder. He typed in the date she was served the papers…her name…Woody's. No hits. "Jordan," he finally said, after several searches, "Woody hasn't had the divorce filed yet. You're still married to him, love." He glanced over at her, noting the look of shock, surprise, and anger all reflecting on her face. "I'm sorry, Jor."

"That's okay, Nige. Not your fault." She backed away and went outside to the small garden behind Nigel's and Ronnie's house. She often cut through it on the way to her own home. She did so again tonight, reflecting not on the beauty of Ronnie's flowers, but of her circumstances.

He hadn't filed the divorce.

Reaching her front porch, she dropped down on the stoop and put her head in her hands. She figured by now, she had been divorced for weeks. She knew she had received no official notification, but then again she hadn't expected to. No one knew where she was at. Yet. She knew that was coming next.

But she had assumed she was divorced. Why hadn't he filed the papers? He had found them in her office – the ones that she had neatly signed, dated and left her rings on. She knew he had. Her father had told her he did. So why weren't they filed? That was a question that neither she nor her beloved science could answer. Maybe Amy hadn't been as willing to succumb to his charms as he thought…maybe it suddenly didn't matter to him if he was or wasn't divorced. She was gone. He was free. Or maybe, notion briefly flitted through her mind, he wasn't so sure he wanted the divorce. Maybe he was remembering…

God knows she still did…late at night, when sleep would leave her. She no longer cried for him at night, but that was simply because she didn't think she had anymore tears left in her for him. But the memories…those she couldn't get rid of. She recalled his voice, his scent...his touch. Vividly. Those memories regularly woke her out of a sound sleep. She rose from the stoop and let herself in her house, going back to her small bedroom.

Like most married couples, they had had disagreements…fights. But they had always made up…He'd come to her, or she would go to him. Apologies were made and accepted. Either way, she'd wind up on his lap, feeling his lips on her face…her neck…his hands slowly sliding up under her shirt…him kissing her until she was completely senseless to everything but him. Making up with Woody also meant making out…something that was not a difficult thing to do or enjoy.

Until their last fight, when she had confronted him about Amy. He had gotten so angry…so very angry, and stormed out of the house. He had been gone for two days. She had worried herself sick, but he had never called. When he finally did return, he didn't apologize. Neither did she. Soon after, the papers arrived on her desk.

She walked over to her dresser, where a small, framed picture sat. It was a picture of them on their wedding day. They both had looked so happy then. How did it all get so bad? How had it all gone so horribly wrong? Was she that bad? Tears rose in her eyes for the first time in days. She was angry, frustrated, confused…the emotions were churning. Anger finally won. She threw the picture against the wall, shattering the glass, ruining both the frame and picture.

He had her served with divorce papers and then didn't file them.

She was still married to Woody.

Damn him.


	7. Found

**Chapter Seven**

"Can I look through her office, one more time?" Woody asked Garret. He had searched her office several times since she left…trying to find some clue…some information about where she had gone. He kept coming up empty, but he still tried.

Garret looked the young detective over…and came to one conclusion. Woody looked like hell. His normal professional appearance could only be described as rumpled at best. He had lost weight and had aged more in a few months than some people did in years. Garret knew Woody regretted his actions and would give anything to take them back…but the chief ME believed that Woody had not only crossed the bridge of no return with Jordan, he had also burned it behind him.

"Sure, Woody. If you think it would help…if you think you'll find anything else, go ahead."

Woody got the key to Jordan's office from Garret and opened the door. Next to their bedroom, this was the place he felt closest to her. She spent most of her time here. He had already gone through the room with a fine-tooth comb, as Garret had the morgue. And like Garret, he had turned up nothing.

But it made him feel like he was doing something to try to find her. Methodically, he pulled out each file from her desk drawer and looked through it. Nothing. Opening the top drawer of her desk, he fingered the personal items there…a scrunchie to keep her hair pulled back, the ticket stubs to the first BoSox game they went to together, a broken necklace, pens, pencils. Notes to herself in her handwriting…_pick up dry cleaning, get milk, call utility company…_Nothing that would lead him anywhere in finding her, but items that went a long way in keeping her close to him.

"Any luck?" Garret asked, propping himself in the doorway to Jordan's office.

"No…no. And I didn't think I 'd find anything new…I just…"

"Needed to be here…close to her?"

"Yeah."

"I know how you feel. Some days I come in here and sit. Just to pretend she's still here."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Sydney burst through the door, interrupting their solitude. "Phoenix," he said.

"Phoenix?" Garret asked, not following the young ME's line of thinking.

"She's in Phoenix. We just got a hit on her social security number."

The men crowded around Sydney's computer. "See…she deposited a paycheck and her FICA withholdings alerted the system," he said.

"Phoenix….can you tell where she's employed?" Woody asked, feeling for the first time a flicker of hope.

"Sorry…I can't right now. Wait until the check clears the bank and I can get a copy."

"Nigel," said Garret, suddenly. "Nigel."

Woody looked at the ME incredulously. "Nigel?" he repeated.

"Yeah. Nigel works left Boston to go to work in Phoenix. She's run to Nigel."

Woody felt the hope that had flickered of hope quickly blow out. She had gone to Nigel. Maybe there was more there than just the friendship he had seen for years. "Do you have a phone number for him?" he asked Garret.

"Yeah. In my office. We'll call from in there. Thanks, Sydney."

Sydney nodded. "Hope she'll talk to you….and good luck." He knew first hand what Jordan's absence was doing to Woody….and Garret wasn't far behind now.

Garret spun his rolodex around until he came to Nigel's Phoenix number. "I think I'd better make the initial call, Woody." Woody nodded, taking a seat on the corner of Garret's desk.

Garret dialed the number and put the phone's speaker on. "Hello?' soon came a soft feminine voice on the other end. It didn't sound like Jordan.

"May I ask who's speaking?" Garret said.

"Veronica Ann Evans…"

"Veronica…"

"Ronnie…please."

"Ronnie, is Dr. Nigel Townsend there?"

"May I ask who's calling?"

Garret took a deep breath. There was no reason Nigel shouldn't speak to him…they had parted as friends. But Nigel would know the real reason he called, and the Englishman's underlying loyalty to Jordan may keep him from speaking to his former boss or being less than honest with him. "Dr. Garret Macy….I was his boss when he worked in Boston." He heard Ronnie put her hand over the receiver and speak to Nigel in low tones. Garret couldn't make out exactly what was said, but a few minutes later, Nigel's voice came over the phone.

"Dr. Macy….how's Boston?" He looked straight at Jordan, who at that moment was on his computer in the living room.

"Cold. Snowy. Typical. How's Phoenix?"

"Warm and sunny."

Garret chuckled. After a few more pleasantries, he got down to the business at hand. "Say, Nigel, a runaway ME from Boston wouldn't be camped out on your couch, would she?"

"No…she's not camped out on my couch. She is on my computer," Nigel replied, still looking at Jordan. He and Jordan had already discussed this situation earlier. Jordan had known the minute she deposited her paycheck, any searches that Woody or Garret had out there on her would pop up as active. She didn't mind anyone knowing where she was at….she just wanted to be left alone for a while.

"So she's safe?"

"Safe, warm, fed, and working. She's fine, Garret."

"Good. Good," Nigel could hear the relief in Garret's voice. "Any chance she's heading back to Boston?"

"Not at the moment. She's working with me at the Arizona Medical Examiners Office. She's here for at least three more months. Jordan's filling in for someone on maternity leave."

"Any clue where she's heading after that?"

"No. I don't think she knows. I hope to keep her here. Hang on a minute, Garret."

Garret could hear Jordan in the background, conferring with Nigel about something.

"Garret…" it was Jordan.

"Jordan….why the hell did you go all the way to Phoenix…and this resigning without notice…." he sounded stern, but she knew the teasing undertone to his voice.

"Sorry Garret. I had the vacation and personal time, so I took it. Bite me."

"No, thanks. Are you okay?"

"Fine…I just needed to get away and think for a while…try to put my life together, you know?"

Garret sighed, and held up his hand to Woody, who was trying to get the phone away from him. "I know, Jor. I know…I just needed to know you were well…and safe." He could tell her voice just how hurt she still was over the divorce. "Look, Jordan, Woody's been trying to get in touch with you ever since you left. He really wants and needs to talk to you. Would you talk to him…at least call him?"

"No. There's no need to. I signed the divorce like he wanted me to. I don't want anything from him. But you can give him a message for me."

"What?"

"Tell him to file the damn papers."


	8. The Ragged Edge of Nowhere

**Chapter Eight**

Jordan checked the Boston legal data base for the third time that week. Her divorce had still not been filed. She was still married to Woody. She sighed and brushed the hair off her shoulders. "I swear I think I'm cursed, Nigel," she said, as they were working in his office on Friday afternoon.

"Cursed, love?"

"Yeah. Cursed. Everything I've ever done with my life has gone wrong."

Nigel turned and gave her a quizzical look. "What are you talking about, Jordan?"

"Well, look. I start out as a heart doctor and end up a medical examiner. I go trying to find justice for my mother….a good thing, right? It nearly cost me every relationship I have, and runs my dad out of Boston. I marry the man I love...and it all goes down in flames. I've tried…so hard….to do the best I could…and nothing has worked out."

"And?"

"Now I'm here, trying to put my life back together…to go on without him, and he won't file the damn papers."

"Maybe he's changed his mind?"

"See….I am cursed…now he's maybe changing his mind…if he wasn't sure about the divorce, he should have never had his lawyer draw up the papers to begin with."

"And then you wouldn't have landed here with me…us working again….one other chance for me to ogle your cute, little backside and for you to enjoy my equally sexy physique."

Jordan laughed and threw a paper wad at him. "Yeah…just what Ronnie needs."

Nigel laughed along with her. If Jordan had learned anything during her time in Phoenix, it was that Nigel had truly found his soul mate. He and Ronnie were made for each other…cut from the same cloth. She couldn't see Nigel ever going back to Boston, unless Ronnie agreed to come with him. That, coupled with the fact the pair were now expecting a baby, cemented the relationship in Jordan's mind.

She was glad for the both of them, but sometimes the obvious joy and companionship they shared made her wince inwardly … at everything of hers that she had lost. No, she was cursed. She wasn't sure what she had done in her past to deserve all of this, but there was no doubt in her mind….she was cursed.

"Well, love," Nigel said. "I wouldn't let the nonfiling of the divorce papers set me back. Just keep moving forward. Sooner or later he'll file them. Just don't worry about it now. You haven't met anyone yet…and who knows if you'll ever be that serious with anyone again. And if you are, you can always pick up a quickie divorce in Mexico. You're not that far away from the border now."

Jordan nodded. What Nigel said was true. She just needed to worry about her future.

* * *

It was going to be a long drive…it would take at least a week to get there. He could fly, but he needed the time to think….the time to rehearse what he was going to say to her when he got to Phoenix. Woody sighed and readjusted his rearview mirror.

After Garret's phone conversation with her, he had made up his mind. He had applied for emergency leave at the precinct and took three weeks off. He had the time off coming anyway. It had been approved the next day, and he went home, threw some things in a suitcase, called Max and told him he was going to see Jordan, climbed in his car and headed west. Much like his wife did three months ago.

As the miles slipped by him, he did have time to think…reflect on them. How difficult she had been at first…from the first day they had met. She had hated his ties and his hair. He found her attitude abrasive at best, even if he found her body one of the hottest he had ever seen. That hadn't changed. His wife was still the most gorgeous woman he had ever met. He remembered when they finally started dating…he had been just a little amazed that such a beautiful woman would want to spend time with him. He had called her his arm candy. She responded with a punch to the ribs. "I have a mind," she had retorted.

"Yes, and it's in one of the prettiest heads out there," he had teased back.

They had started "dating" late in their relationship. Years after they had first kissed in the California desert. Their second kiss had been much closer to home. It had been in the Pogue. Max had still been gone. It was a Saturday night. April 17. He remembered the date exactly. Even the time. 1:12 a.m. She was working the bar that night and had to close up. He had stayed with her…as usual. When she was through, he asked her to dance. They had gotten closer since Max had left…even after Devan, they still moved closer together. They talked for hours sometimes after work, while she was at the bar. He began to feel he not only knew her thoughts, he could read her soul.

And the sweetness, the vulnerability there, despite how hard she tried to mask it behind a cocky attitude, took his breath. The music had stopped, and they still stood there in the middle of the room, holding each other, reluctant to let each other go. Finally, she had been the one to begin to pull away. "I guess I need to…"she had gotten no further. He put a finger to her lips to stop her talking, looked into her eyes, then zeroed in on her mouth…kissing her softly at first, giving her a chance to break away if she needed to. But she didn't. She responded. And that was all it took. He had gently nipped her bottom lip…she opened her mouth…their tongues tangled. And the heavens and the earth shook.

He had told her she was beautiful. She had never believed him. "No…I'm not. Not when compared to…" and she'd name some buxom beauty on television or on a magazine cover.

"Jordan, that's not what's beautiful. And that's not what I want," he'd respond.

"Are you sure?"

He had been sure. Never more sure of anything in his life. He wanted her to talk to…her toothbrush by his in the bathroom…her car beside his in the garage.

Her beside him in their bed. Woody ran his fingers through his hair. Bed. With Jordan. He remembered the first time they had been in bed together…they both knew the relationship would eventually land there, but it took several months for it to happen. And then it was almost an accident – totally unplanned and unscripted. They had been at his apartment. They had cooked dinner together and were watching a movie. He was lying on his back on the couch and she was lying on top of him, with him rubbing lazy circles on her back, his hand under her shirt. The movie ended and she made no effort to move. "Jordan?" he had asked. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah…" she had chuckled. "I just don't want to get up."

"And the only reason is I give great backrubs, right?"

"No…not exactly." She had raised her head and kissed him full on the lips. She hadn't resisted when he tugged her shirt off over her head. Or unfastened her bra and discarded it. And he didn't utter a word when she unbuttoned his shirt. They ended up in his bedroom….he still wasn't quite sure how, but his bed was a hell of a lot more comfortable than the couch, not to mention bigger and more….accommodating.

When he woke the next morning, he had tentatively reached across the bed, fully expecting to find her gone…intimacy, either emotional or physical, had made her run in the past. But no. She was still there, curled up beside him, her head tucked on his shoulder, their legs still intertwined. He had brushed the curls off her face and her eyes had opened. He was afraid there'd be that awkward moment. There wasn't. She had smiled. And kissed him again. And they didn't leave his bedroom until late evening.

So why had he gone and screwed everything up? Because reality got in the way. And he hadn't figured reality into the equation of their life together. They had married…and things got busy. He got a promotion. Nigel and Bug left…Between his new job and her added responsibilities, they had no time for each other. And when they both were home, they were too tired to do anything but sleep. Before he knew it, weeks would go by before they had a chance to make love.

And then Amy…his new partner. She was bright and cute. And there. He had never slept with her…he swore to Jordan he hadn't and he didn't. But they worked together. And they were close. Your partner watched your back. You had to know their rhythms and moods as well as your own. He guessed it just got a little trickier when your partner is an attractive female. Maybe they had gotten too close for Jordan's comfort. He had never really thought about it, because Amy had meant nothing to him…not in that way. Evidently Amy had caught wind that she was the root of the problem between him and Jordan because she had transferred out of the department. His new partner was an older man…

But he had been angry at Jordan's accusations. He was tired of her hours…tired of days and weeks going by with no time for them…he had wanted Garret to quit working her so hard. She didn't seem to want to ask for a reduction in hours. In the end, their relationship had been like a Mexican stand off. So he decided to fire the final shot. Maybe the threat of a divorce would shock her back into reality.

Instead she had assumed the worst.

She wasn't supposed to do that.

So here he was now, on Interstate 40, traveling west…on the ragged edge of nowhere.


	9. A Part She Won't Give Back

**Chapter Nine**

He pulled into Phoenix a little after nine on Friday night. He had made better time than he thought he would. He pulled a tattered piece of paper from his wallet. It was Nigel's address. Garret had given it to him before he left Boston. They couldn't find Jordan's address. Maybe it wasn't in the system yet. He stopped at a gas station at the edge of the city and asked for directions. It wasn't hard to find. It was right off the interstate.

He drove to the residence and walked up the sidewalk to hesitantly knock on the door. Nigel answered. "Woody?" he asked, not really believing his eyes.

"Hi, Nige. Can I come in?" he asked, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Nigel pushed the door open a little wider to let the detective in. Woody brushed by him and walked into the living room. There was a petite woman sitting on the couch, with long purple hair. "Woodrow, meet my girlfriend, Veronica, or rather Ronnie as she would rather be called. Ronnie, this is Woody Hoyt."

Ronnie raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows and gave Nigel a look over Woody's head. Nigel nodded. "Nice to meet you, Woody." She turned to Nigel and said, "I feel a little tired…I think I'm going to head on up to bed."

"Night, love," Nigel said, giving her a quick kiss as she passed him. "I'll be up soon."

"Pretty lady," Woody said.

"Thanks. I think so. She's a great woman."

"Been together long?"

"About nine months…she's the reason I'm staying in Phoenix."

Woody smiled. Jordan had kept him in Boston more times than he could count. And Nigel had just answered his unstated question … had Jordan ran to Phoenix to be with Nigel? The answer was no…at least not in the way he had been thinking. "I'm glad things are working out so well for you here, Nige."

"Very well. We're expecting our first child in about seven months."

"Congratulations." He and Jordan had talked about having children before everything got so hectic. They had wanted two…now he wondered if that would ever happen. His heart ached just little harder. "Nige….I need to see her," Woody finally said, hearing the desperation in his own voice. He wondered how apparent it was to Nigel.

"I don't know if that would be the best idea, Woody. Given everything that has happened…and the way she feels now."

"How does she feel?"

"Hurt. Betrayed. Angry. Her emotions run the gamut. She's at the angry stage right now. Wanting to go on with her life, but feeling like she can't until you file those papers." Nigel didn't feel like holding back with the detective. Jordan wasn't Nigel's to protect any longer, but neither was she really Woody's. Because of that, he felt like he could be as blunt as he needed to be with the detective. "So why haven't you filed them? You sure as hell had them drawn up quickly enough."

Woody sighed. "I did it to get her attention. She was working all these hours…she wouldn't ask Macy to cut her a little slack so we could be together. I was working all the time. Then, I'm sure she told you about Amy."

Nigel nodded. Many of Jordan's earlier conversations had included Amy. "I have heard of the woman."

"The fact is Nigel, nothing happened between Amy and me. Nothing. She was my partner. That's all. But I couldn't make Jordan believe it. And Amy's transferred out of my department. I have a new partner… and older guy named David. But I haven't been able to tell her this. She won't take my calls…or call me back."

Nigel nodded again. "I know. I know." He sat back in his chair, put his hands behind his head, stretched his legs out in front of him, and blew out a deep sigh. It was time to be honest with Woody. Maybe he should have done this a long time ago. He knew Woody had been jealous at times over his and Jordan's friendship. Woody didn't understand why Nigel knew Jordan better than anyone at the morgue…even Dr. Macy. Finally, leaning forward, he looked the detective in the eyes.

"I know Jordan, Woody. I've known her longer for nearly anyone, except Dr. Macy. But I met her only a month after he did. And I know her better than Garret does. Much better. Garret has always been a father-type figure for Jordan. I wasn't. She could tell me things she couldn't tell Garret.

"I know she loved you, Woody. Deeply. Completely. More than she's loved anyone. But, for all of Jordan's complexities…issues….toughness, the fact is, deep down under all of that…she's a woman in the truest sense of the word. She has the same feelings that any other woman has. She wants to be loved. She wants to be cherished. And you ripped all of that out from under her three months ago. You may have just wanted to get her attention…let her know how serious all this was. But between her perceived theory of what was going on with you and Amy and the divorce, you took the security she had with you away.

"If you remember, I was the one who urged her to start taking you seriously…quit pushing you away…from the very beginning. That was because I felt with you, she was safe. She could trust her heart with you…you'd guard it like it was your very own. But you've ended up hurting her, just like every other male in her life. And if you've noticed, every man that has hurt her has lost something….a part of Jordan that she doesn't give back, even if she forgives you. Look at her relationship with her father. It hasn't been the same since she found out all the lies about James. Look at her relationship with Macy. Sure, she adores the man, but she doesn't talk to him like she used to. She hasn't called him since she's been here. Garret had to call her.

"And lastly, look at me. Ever since I hurt her, there's still a wall between us. Even though we've worked through most of our issues a long time ago, there's still a part of Jordan that she keeps hidden from me. There's still that circle around her soul that she will no longer let me inside of."

Woody looked at Nigel. "You hurt Jordan? How? I mean, you two have always been the best of friends."

Nigel smiled at him…it wasn't a full smile and it didn't reach his eyes. Now was the time. "Jordan and I were lovers, Woody."

Woody blanched. That was the last thing he expected.

"Were," Nigel continued. "Years ago. After she first returned to Boston from LA. It didn't last long….less than a year…and we kept it totally secret. Max didn't know….and God knows, Macy didn't know. I got to understand her very well. That was a period in Jordan's life where she would tell you everything. There wasn't that tough, outer shell there. That's something that I've seen the years put on the lady. Then, she was open…vulnerable. She told me whatever was on her mind. But I was a coward. The morgue had a rule during those years…it frowned on relationships with co-workers. I was afraid of losing my job and being deported. So I called it quits. We parted as friends, and have remained so, but it was hard winning the lady's trust back. It took me a long time and it's something I still don't have completely. I probably never will. But I value what I have. And in my own way, I still love Jordan. I'd do anything for her. And I think she'd return the favor."

Woody listened, his mouth slightly agape with amazement. Finally he found his voice. "But you and she…since that time…you haven't…"

Nigel shook his head. "No. Not once. I have been sorely tempted, but I don't think it's even tiptoed across her mind. I lost my chance. I believe you have, too."

Woody shook his head. "But I need to see her. I need to talk to her…face to face. I need to hear it from her…that it's final."

"I can't guarantee she'll talk to you."

"I'll risk it."

Nigel sighed. "Go to the end of my block. Take a right. Turn right down the next street. Her house is 1513 Lucas Drive. It's a tiny, pinkish adobe house. You can't miss it. Her rag top is in the driveway if she's home."


	10. A Hard Lesson

**Chapter Ten**

Ten o'clock had come and gone when Woody pulled up in Jordan's driveway. Her jeep was there, and the downstairs light was on. Swallowing his pride and trying to boost up his courage, he walked up the sidewalk and knocked on the door, Nigel's words still ringing in his ears … _every man that has hurt her has lost something….a part of Jordan that she doesn't give back, even if she forgives you._ He knew he had hurt her…badly. But he also knew he'd take any part she was willing to give back…and work on getting anything else he could. It had evidently taken Nigel a long time to get where he was at with Jordan…to the point where she felt comfortable running to him. Woody was willing to wait for however long it took. He heard her moving around inside. Finally the door opened.

She looked beautiful standing there…the living room light softly playing off the back of her curly hair. She had on a white peasant blouse and a long, full denim skirt….looking like the southwest that she was now very much a part of. Silver hoops were in her ears. She was barefoot…

"Woody." That was the only word out of her mouth and he wasn't sure if she spat it out or just said it in such a flat voice that she'd be sure he would take the hint and leave. She didn't even ask the trite question _what are you doing here_? She knew either he or Garret would probably end up in Phoenix before it was all over. And she would have bet her money it was going to be Woody.

"Can I come in, Jordan? I want to talk with you…I need to."

"I signed the papers. What else is there? I don't see we have anything to discuss."

"Still, I'd like to come in. I need to talk with you. I'll leave whenever you say. No questions asked."

Jordan sighed and relented. She simply turned and walked away from her doorway, leaving it open for him to enter. He followed her in and shut the door behind him. She went over to the couch by the fireplace and sat down. He stood in front of the small fire she had built.

"So how have you been, Jordan? Since you've left Boston…"

"I'm fine Woody. But I don't think you drove all the way from New England just to ask about my health."

"So why'd you do it, Jordan? Why did you sign the papers without talking to me first?"

"Isn't that what you wanted? To be free again…to do whatever you wanted to without coming home to me or having to answer a lot of awkward questions?"

"I was just trying to get your attention…to make you see how far apart we had drifted…to make you realize how important 'we' were."

"Well, you picked a hell of a way to do it."

Woody looked at his shoes. She wasn't making this easy. He didn't expect her to. "I know. I'm sorry."

There was an awkward silence then…all that was heard was the crackle of the fire and the ticking of a clock somewhere. Then quietly, she asked, "Why haven't you filed the papers, Woody? I signed them nearly four months ago…your divorce won't be final until you file them. Why haven't you?"

He turned and looked at her, then, his eyes startlingly blue and honest. "I was hoping that maybe we could reconsider the situation…that maybe, after you've finished filling in here for the ME on maternity leave, you'd come back home…and we could talk this out…go through counseling…whatever it takes…to try to make it work. I really don't want to lose you, Jo. I just…just wanted you to see how far apart we've drifted. It's not all your fault, but it's not all my fault either. There was nothing between me and Amy. I swear. Nothing.

But we've been married for five years…dated even longer….and you were one of the first people I met when I arrived in Boston. I don't want to lose you."

Standing, Jordan looked in his eyes… her own eyes mirroring as much hurt as his did tentative hope. "Woody…" she began.

He reached out and encircled her waist with his hands.

She tried to back away… "No…Woody…don't … Don't make this anymore difficult than it already is. You started this…I didn't. I'm not saying I won't come back to Boston… but I am saying that even if I do, things have changed between us. Now if we ever have an argument, I'm always going to be afraid that you'll leave me. And I can't live with that. I'd rather be on my own…and remain somewhat friends, than have that kind of fear in my relationship with you. You've got the divorce papers. I signed them. Don't file them if you don't want to. But if you do file them, I won't fight the divorce or protest anything you want from our marriage….house, cars…whatever. All I want is what I've brought with me here to Phoenix."

"Is that how you really feel, Jordan?"

She nodded.

"Okay," he breathed out. "I'm going to miss you, Jo. I'll miss everything about you…the way you hum when you cook dinner, the way you leave your shoes in the entry way…everything. I'm sorry I hurt you…I should have never filed those papers to get your attention. I should have tried harder to talk to you. Maybe I should have been more sensitive. But I understand where you're coming from…constantly being afraid that I'll leave you if something happens.

"I'll always love you, Jordan Marie Cavanaugh Hoyt. Always. No matter where life takes you…or where it takes me….I always will love you…and be there for you if you need me." And with that, Woody tightened his hold on her waist and kissed her.

He didn't hold back any… moving to part her lips and open her mouth for him. Kissing her deeply, while letting his hands travel…up her back, through her hair, splaying across her backside, bringing her as close to him as he could get her.

And she let him. For whatever anger she felt towards him, the love she had for this man was still there. But Jordan had learned a hard lesson early in life…sometimes the things you love the most, you have to let go of, because in the long run, they'll hurt you. She had done this with her mother's murder. She had to do this with Woody.

When he finally broke the kiss, he hugged her tightly to him…one last time, trying hard to commit to memory her scent…the way she felt against him. Finally, placing one last kiss on the top of her head, he whispered, "Goodbye, Jordan. I do love you. I really do. Please remember that." He released her then, walked out the door, and was gone.


	11. DOA

**Chapter Eleven**

He got back in his car and drove to the interstate. It was late, but he wasn't tired. Not yet anyway. He'd stop in a few hours and get a hotel. Truth was, he hadn't thought much about his return trip. He had hoped…anticipated, even, that he'd be sleeping with his wife tonight. That obviously wasn't going to happen now…and probably never again. He winced at the thought. "She's going to go on with her life now," he reflected. "Whether it's in Phoenix, or back in Boston, she's left me behind." He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. That was hard for him to accept, for as much as he knew there was a time in his life without Jordan, he really couldn't remember it. He didn't want to. He thought about the void that was in his life when he first came to Boston…and how knowing her…feeling her warmth….somehow filled it. Even when their relationship had hit rocky places, he knew that somehow, they'd steer through it.

Not now. Not anymore.

He drove on through the night, radio blaring to keep him awake…thinking about the cases they had worked on together. The dances at the Pogue. When she had first told him that she loved him. Despite his gloomy mood, a smile played with the corners of his mouth. He was called into a homicide scene. He surveyed it and in turn, had called her. There had been a shooting. They were looking over the scene when one of the gunmen they thought was dead rolled back over and began firing. Woody quickly clipped him, but not before his Kevlar took two rounds. Jordan had been on the sidelines, watching. When the scene had calmed down, she had gone over to him to check and see if he was okay. He had been almost kind of brusque with her…wanting to get back to the scene. She had stopped him. "Don't ever do that again," she said.

"Jordan, I can't predict the scene…I can't promise you that," he had replied.

"I don't care. You can't get hurt. Ever. You can't leave me."

Seeing the tears in her eyes and feeling her trembling, he had led her away over to the side to talk to her and calm her down. "Jordan, I'm fine…feel?" He had put her hand on his chest. "See….I'm okay."

"I know…it's just…it's just…I love you, Woody. Nothing can happen to you."

Half the precinct heard her confession. "You can't take that back now, Jordan Cavanaugh. I have witnesses," he joked.

"I don't want to," she had whispered softly, looking up at him. "I meant it."

His world had tilted one more time.

He was lost in his memories of her… too late to see the car in front of him stop suddenly. All he saw was brake lights and all he heard was the screech of tires.

* * *

The incessant ringing of the phone brought Nigel out of a sound sleep. Pulling his arms carefully from around Ronnie so as not to wake her, he answered it. "Townsend," he said softly in the receiver.

"Nigel, this is Dr. Daniels. There's been a multi-car accident on the highway…could you get out there? I know it's late…but I was thinking that if you could cover this part, then Jordan could come into the office early and start autopsy."

"Sure. I'll be right there. I'll call Jordan and let her know."

Nigel hung up the phone and called Jordan. Her sleepy voice answered his call. "Hoy—Cavanaugh," she said.

"Still can't make up your mind? Nigel teased.

"Sorry, Nige. Old habits die hard."

"Yeah. Look, love. Dr. Daniels just called me…there's been a multi-car pile up on the interstate. I'm going to cover the field work. Can you be in the office early tomorrow to start autopsy?"

"Sure, Nige. No problem."

"Thanks love. How'd it go with Woody tonight, if you don't mind me asking?"

Jordan sighed. "Pretty rough. He wants me to come back to Boston after my time here is up and for us try to work things out."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him that I may come back to Boston…but I couldn't live in a relationship where every time things got rough, I would have to worry about him leaving. That the divorce was up to him…He could file or not file. I wouldn't protest if he did."

"How did he take it?"

"Okay…I guess. As well as could be expected."

"Hmmmm…Are you okay?"

"I will be…"

"I know you will love. Get some rest. I'll see you soon."

Nigel hung up and whispered to Ronnie that he had to leave, getting dressed quietly and going to the accident scene. It was a mess…cars, trucks…everywhere. And fire. Some of the vehicles had caught fire. It would take hours to go through the wreckage.

Methodically, he began to process the scene…one after the other….sending the bodies back to the morgue…until he finally reached the part of the tangled heap of metal that had been burned. There were no bodies here…there was nothing left. Fuel had drained from a tanker in the middle of the wreck, as well as from some of the other cars. A spark from somewhere had ignited the mangled wreckage. The only things left at this spot were some car frames…and license plates. A familiar one caught Nigel's eye…Massachusetts. Boston. Hurriedly, Nigel checked the make of the car…A Honda Civic. He swallowed hard.

Sick to his stomach he called his office and had them run the tag. In a matter of minutes it was confirmed. Woody's car. There was no body left. He gathered what he could from the scene to see if he could get a DNA match. Woody had been in the system. His DNA was there. Then he called the hospital tosee if Woody was listed among the survivors. He wasn't. Hurrying back to the office, he ran the DNA test, just to be sure. Before he told Jordan. It matched. He spoke with Dr. Daniels. He called Dr. Macy. Then he made his way to Jordan's office, to tell his friend news he had no desire to…news that he didn't know how she would take….for Nigel knew that despite the fact that Jordan had told Woody to go ahead to the divorce, her feelings for the detective still ran deep.

"Love? Have you got a minute?"


	12. I Still See Him Everywhere

**Chapter Twelve**

Nigel came into her office and shut the door. From the look on his face, she knew it was bad news…she just had no idea how bad. At first, she thought it might be about her father.

In her wildest nightmares, she had never dreamed it would be about Woody. Nigel took her in his arms. "Love," he began…his own voice perilously close to the edge. "I have something I need to tell you." His eyes had said it.

The only noise that had come from her throat before she crumpled in his arms and lost track of reality was "No…no...no…no…."

But Nigel just nodded. "I'm sorry, Jordan. His car was in the pileup…in the very middle of it, where the fire started. I am so, so sorry."

Fire. He had been nearly consumed by the fire, according to Nigel's report. There wasn't even enough left to bring into the morgue. Nothing left to place in a casket and mourn over.

In a matter of minutes, her world had changed. In the space of time it had taken for Nigel to tell her about Woody, she had gone from being a married person to being single one.

From being a wife to being a widow.

Weeks later, she still sobbed in her pillow at night, when the memories overtook her. She had really just gotten to the point to where she could begin to put the events of the last few months together. After Nigel had told her Woody had been in the wreck and didn't survive, she had crumpled in his arms. She couldn't think, let alone reason, for days. She remembered Garret flying in. She remembered crying herself to sleep in his arms.

At some point in time, Nigel had come to her with a small bag. "I found this in his car," he said. "I thought you may want them." She had opened it up. Inside were her engagement ring and wedding band. He had them with him when he had talked to her that night…probably in hopes she would put them back on and be his wife again.

And if she had, he would still be alive…still warm and breathing beside her. The remorse she felt was awful. The guilt she felt was indescribable. She wasn't coping at any level. The loss was too great for her to fathom.

She decided to leave Phoenix. Go back home – to Boston. At least she had some kind of footing there. Garret. Her dad. Their small house. Between the three, it strangely was the house that gave her the most comfort. His things were there….his clothes. His antique robot collection. His aftershave. She still felt he was there with her in some way.

She planned a memorial service. There was nothing to bury, but he needed to be honored. He should be honored. He had served the citizens of Boston nearly ten years at this point. A police honor guard was there. Bug and Lily flew in from England. Nigel and Ronnie came in from Phoenix. Peter even returned from Hawaii. It was truly a gathering of eagles. They had solved cases together, worked together, drank together for more years than any of them cared to remember. Garret had called them "the best damn group of ME's I've ever worked with…probably the best anywhere, ever. And Woody was definitely the best detective to work with." A priest prayed. Kind words were spoken about the man she still loved…would probably always love, for the rest of her life. Despite the fact that no body was recovered, she placed a headstone for him in the cemetery, near her mother's grave. Now she had two reasons to visit here.

Lily and Ronnie had stayed for several days with her. Both of the women were pregnant…Jordan had looked at them with a mixture of awe and remorse. If only…that phrase filled her mind and her dreams now. _If only I had agreed to come back to Boston, if only I had talked to him before I signed the papers, if only….if only…That could be Woody and me expecting our first child….we all three could be pregnant together. _The women tried to help Jordan sort through Woody's things…but she couldn't bring herself to throw out any of it out right now. Just being able to find a shirt in the closet that smelled like him…to put it on and sleep in it at night brought her more comfort than she could say.

Garret hired her back at the morgue. He had never really officially accepted her letter of resignation. He had put her on leave. She had her old office back. She was working again, at least on some level. Mainly in trace. She didn't trust herself in autopsy yet. Her life went on in increments. One minute to the next. Then hours. Then days. Peter decided to return to Boston from Hawaii. It was good to have another old friend by her side during this time, since Bug and Lily returned to England and Nigel and Ronnie went back to Phoenix.

"Say, Jordan…" Peter said, sticking his head in her office one Friday afternoon at quitting time. "Want to go grab a drink at the Pogue after work?"

"I don't think so…I just don't feel like it, Peter."

"Jordan…you need to get out more…it's not good that you stay home so much…It worries me and Dr. Macy. I know it would worry Woody. Please….for me?"

Peter was becoming a good friend to Jordan…watching her nearly as closely as Nigel did while he was at the morgue. He and Garret were trying to keep her spirits boosted as much as possible. But as winter gave way to a cool Boston spring, it was getting harder and harder to pull Jordan away from work, or out of her house. Garret feared for her mental health. Peter feared she would run.

But running was no longer an option for Jordan. If she ran, she would have to leave the home that she and Woody had made. If she ran, her memories would be in Boston. And right now, those were the only things keeping her warm at night.

"Um…okay, Peter. But not the Pogue…"

Peter nodded. He imagined it held too many memories for her. "How about McPherson's?"

"Yeah. That's good. I'll meet you there in about an hour?"

"Sure."

He left her office and shut the door. Quietly, Jordan put on her coat and got her pocketbook. Leaving the morgue, she drove to the cemetery. The days were getting longer now. It stayed light after quitting time. She often came to Woody's site after work now…to think. To remember. To talk to him. She had apologized more times than she wanted to remember for not really listening to him that night. She felt she bore the weight of his death on her shoulders. It was her fault…she could have invited him to stay the night at least. She had known it was getting late.

Or she could have said yes, and returned to Boston as his wife.

The guilt was eating her alive. "Hey, sweetheart," she said quietly to his headstone. "It's Friday…another week is ending. It's wonderful weather now…This would be the time of year we'd start grilling out again…brats on the grill…a little hanky-panky in the hot tub…" Jordan smiled. That was Woody's favorite way of starting the weekend. They'd grill out….have a beer….start in the hot tub….where he'd kiss her and promptly remove her bathing suit top.

He'd take the rest of it off in the bedroom. As she would his….and after making love until they were exhausted, they'd fall asleep and stay in the bed until late Saturday morning.

Now she rose as early on Saturday as she did the rest of the work week. There was no reason to linger in bed. She swallowed hard. "I miss you, Wood. A lot. So much my soul aches. I keep thinking I see you…in the house…at the precinct. Garret thinks I'm losing it. He wants me to take a vacation…get away from it all for a while. I don't know. I might go back to Phoenix and see Nigel and Ronnie. She's due in couple of months….They want me to be the godmother of their child…can you imagine me….a godmother? Yeah, I think it's crazy, too.

"I've got to go now, hon. Peter's waiting for me at McPherson's. He said he wanted to take me out for a drink. I think he just wants to make sure I'm okay. I know I need to get out more, but it just doesn't feel right….besides, I feel closer to you in the house. Maybe one day…" her voice cracked just a little… "Maybe one day before long I'll see you again. I love you…." She gave the headstone a pat and walked off. She supposed Garret maybe right. She may very well be loosing the edge of her sanity. She could swear some days she could still see him. She made a mental note to make an appointment with Howard Stiles next week and ask him if this degree of grief was normal.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she climbed in her rag top and drove to the bar.


	13. LA

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Six Weeks after the Accident**

The helicopter whirred and cut through the bright California morning. It had been a long trip…from Phoenix to Los Angeles. He was tired. Despite his improving health, he still experienced fatigued easily. He tried to make himself more comfortable on the gurney…to no avail.

He still wasn't sure how he was alive…why he was alive…The truth was, he didn't remember a whole lot of anything. He remembered he was thinking about Jordan…and when he looked up, all he saw was red brake lights. He had practically stood up on his brakes, trying to get his Honda Civic to stop before it rear ended the car in front of him, but he couldn't. His air bag had deployed. He had gotten out of his car… smelled gasoline and knew what that might mean… He had tried run to the cars nearest the tanker to see if he could get anyone out. The next thing he heard was an explosion that had nearly rendered him deaf. After that, he remembered nothing….until he woke up in the burn unit of Phoenix Memorial Hospital three weeks later. And even then they hadn't been too certain he was going to make it.

Like most burn victims, his prognosis was minute by minute…sometimes second by second. He went into cardiac arrest four times, and each time he was brought back. He wasn't quite sure why the powers that be were calling him back…back to reality…back to life. The doctors in the burn unit worked with him…and finally got him stabilized. When he somewhat regained consciousness, they asked him his name…his vocal chords had been so damaged by the heat and smoke he couldn't reply. He was so badly burned, they couldn't get a print and his condition was too risky to push making an ID, and the fire had burned nearly all his clothing off…including the wallet that held his drivers license and police identification. "Let's get him to the LA burn unit and see what they can do for him…we'll give the good news to his family later," the head of the Phoenix hospital said.

And he still couldn't talk… he knew who he was…but couldn't make it known. The burns covered more than sixty percent of his body, most of them being third degree. He had met the blast nearly head on. He had no idea what he now looked like underneath the bandages…he really didn't want to know.

What he did want to know…needed to know…was did Jordan know he was alive? Did she care? The pain overcame him one more time….and unconsciousness took him.

* * *

Was it days or weeks later he opened his eyes…he wasn't sure. What he was certain about was that there was a pretty, blonde nurse by his side checking his vitals. "You're awake," she said. She buzzed for the doctor, while still talking with him. "You've been out for a while. We didn't know if we were going to lose you or not. Good to have you back with us."

The doctor came into his room then. He looked over the chart that the nurse had filled in, then looked under the bandages on his legs and chest. "Hmmmm. You're a very lucky man, sir. Most folks wouldn't have survived this…and you nearly didn't…several times. But I think you're going to make it now. You'll live. And lucky for you, you're here….we've got one of the best burn units in the world. You're probably going to have to learn to walk and do most other things all over again, but in the end, you'll never know you were this badly burnt. No one will. We also have one of the best reconstructive units in the world, too. By the time we're done, no one will know this happened to you…I promise.

But it's going to take time…maybe up to a year. And you're going to have to work hard. Harder than you've ever worked before at anything. Can you do this, son?"

Woody nodded.

"Is there anyone we need to contact for you? I'm afraid that you may have been put on the list of deceased from this accident. If there's family we need to contact, let us know…it will make their day."

Woody thought for a minute. His mom and dad were dead. Cal didn't need this right now...Jordan? He swallowed hard. She had said it was over, even if her last kiss had told him something entirely different. She had probably already been contacted and told he was dead…especially if they found his car burnt up…It had been nearly two months now after the accident…he still had so much to do. If she found out, he knew she wouldn't think twice about hopping a plane and coming to him…staying with him until he got better.

For what? To proceed with the divorce? He wasn't sure. But he did know he didn't want to disrupt her life again. She was in Phoenix and doing well.

He shook his head no.

* * *

The drugs were endless. It seemed they were always looking for a place to hook up another IV. The antibiotics they gave him to ward off infection made him nauseous. The pain killers they gave him made him sleepy. The constant changing of the bandages wore on his ultra-sensitive nerve endings.

But slowly, he made progress…each day got a little better. Finally, one morning, nearly three months after the accident, the doctor asked him if he could tell them who he was. Hesitantly, with a voice that was gruffer than he had ever known himself to have, he managed to get out, "W…w…Woody Hoyt."

The doctor scanned the list of DOA's from the accident. "Mr. Hoyt…you're listed on the roster of victims from this accident. Isn't there anyone we need to contact to let them know you're not dead?"

Woody thought for a minute….and nodded. "Y…y….y….yeah. Peter Brannigan."

"Where's Mr. Brannigan at?'

"LAPD – Sunny D."

The doctor gave him a quizzical look, and nodded to the nurse, who picked up the phone and requested an outside line. "What do you want me to tell Mr. Brannigan?" the doctor asked.

"Tell him…..I need to see him…Now."


	14. Memories

**Chapter Fourteen**

It was the hardest work of Woody's life. As the months clicked by, he hurdled one painful obstacle after the other. Even after he had learned to walk again, the physical therapy was relentless. And the skin grafts were excruciating. He finally quit counting how many he had. He just concentrated on getting better.

Not that he was real sure what he would do once he healed completely. Technically, he was dead. Peter Brannigan, an old friend from Sunny D, had visited Woody many times during his recovery…to renew their friendship and help Woody as much as he could. Brannigan had confirmed that Woody had indeed been declared DOA after the site had been processed. Nigel had signed his death certificate. Talk about a twisted world.

Finally, Woody got up enough courage to ask about Jordan. Brannigan made some discreet inquiries. "She's left Phoenix and returned to Boston, Woody," Brannigan said. "She's working back at the morgue…at her old job, living in the house that you two shared. From what I hear, she's not doing too well…she misses you a lot. To her, you're dead. That's what Nigel told her. They found your car completely incinerated and no body. They assumed you had been burnt up. She believes she's your widow…and is grieving for you. Woody, you need to tell her you're alive."

And that was the decision Woody was pondering…when he should tell her. And if he told her, could he win her back? She may be grieving, but was she grieving him or the fact that he was dead? There was a difference. Could they put their relationship back together?

Did she need to be saddled with such an injured man? Should he do that to her? He still had a long way to go physically to get back to normal. He more skin grafts to go… not to mention reconstructive surgery. His face, shoulders, and arms were a mass of burns. There were also numerous burns on his arms and legs. Those had been covered fairly successfully with skin grafts. There were faint, silvery scars, but the nurses had teased him that these would fade with a few trips to a tanning bed. The burns that lingered outside the arena that would not be covered by a shirt would need extensive reconstruction surgery.

"Let me get better… She doesn't need to be held down by me…I've still got such a long way to go."

"Woody…your wife is grieving you…deeply."

"And I still love her. I love her enough to walk away from her life if I think that living with me would be too much of a burden on her."

"But she needs to know. She deserves to know."

"Let me get some more of this surgery out of the way…especially the reconstructive."

Brannigan nodded. He understood where Woody was coming from. Woody's face was simply a mass of burns. The reconstructive surgery would take months. "Sure, Woody. I understand," Brannigan said. "Just let me know what I need to do."

Woody nodded, leaning back in his bed to rest. His first reconstructive surgery was scheduled for the next week. He would know more after that. He did recognize that he still loved his wife. He also was aware since he did, he couldn't bring himself to tell Jordan that he was alive…not yet. If she found out, he knew what she would do. She'd be to LA in a heartbeat. But he didn't want her sympathy. He didn't want her pity. He wanted her…he wanted to know that she loved him…not that she felt sorry for him.

* * *

Jordan stared out the window of her office. She knew the date. All too well. Garret even told her to take the day off if she needed to. Peter had promised to cover for her. But what was she supposed to do? Stay in an empty house that was so full of memories that sometimes she could hardly breathe?

She knew she would feel better if she worked…so that's what she was doing…in a way. Thankfully, she was off rotation, so her job today consisted of only paperwork. Not that she was pushing the pencil too hard….

It had been a year. Woody had been dead a whole year. For 365 days, she had been a widow….a new title that she didn't easily wear. Widows were little, old, gray-haired ladies that were secretly glad their husbands were dead so they could have a few years of peace before they died. Widows were not thirty-something women who still loved their husbands and had been looking forward to the rest of their lives with them.

She pondered today, as she often did, what would she and Woody be doing today? Would they be divorced? Would he have gone on with his initial plan? Or would they somehow have reconciled? She hoped it would have been the later.

Living for her right now, was a bit of a time-warp. She hadn't changed the house. His suits and clothes were in the closet. His boxers and socks were in his drawer. His Boston PD badge was on the dresser. His cologne was in the bathroom. His robots were in the great room. It looked as though he had never left.

But her bed was empty at night. She couldn't even bring herself to sleep in it. She either slept in the guest room upstairs, or on the couch in the living room. She had never filled the hot tub once during the past year….the grill sat idle, too.

She had not moved on. Despite encouragement from her friends and understanding from her father, she hadn't moved forward much since the day Nigel had told her Woody was dead. She had gone through weeks of disbelief, thinking that each day around six, she'd see him come through the door of their home…but it remained stubbornly shut.

Then there was that undeniable, unreasonable anger she felt. At him…for coming to Phoenix and then trying to drive back the same day. Who did he think he was, Superman?

At herself, for letting him and not telling him what her heart really felt. Anger that she still felt today….along with guilt. The guilt was the worse. She'd give anything if she could turn back the pages on her calendar. But she couldn't. She had to face the future and go on, even if her heart remained in the past.

It seemed everyone was moving forward, but her. Nigel and Ronnie had a baby girl. They had named her Jordan Marie Townsend. She had flown out to see her god daughter and had been there for the christening. Ronnie e-mailed her pictures of her namesake nearly weekly. She was planning to return to Phoenix on her vacation to spend time with them and the small Jordan. Bug and Lily had a baby boy, Hunter Mahesh. They were returning to the states in the next few months…Bug was through with his research there. Garret had hired him back. Jordan would once again be working with an old friend.

Old friends were returning to the roost in Boston…new lives were being born. And her heart remained encapsulated in a time and place that no longer existed in any form for her. She sighed and turned away from the window. She wondered if Woody, wherever he was at now, could realize just how lost she was without him, how she was struggling…and that she had no idea what to do. Maybe she should sell their house and move…try to get away from some of the memories.

That thought seemed to strip her soul bare. Memories were all she had left…what would she do without them?


	15. The Man in the Mirror

**Chapter Fifteen**

He nearly didn't recognize the face that stared back at him in the mirror. It was so unlike him…the old him. Nearly 18 months had passed since the accident. He was through with therapy. He was through with skin grafts. He was through with reconstructive surgery. And his face looked nothing like he remembered.

The doctors had warned him this might happen. There was little tissue left to work with on his face. The surgeons did the best they could. He had one dimple left. But nothing else looked the same…except for his eyes. His eyes were still as blue as they ever were. He grew his hair out longer in the front to helped cover scars. Everything was different. The face he knew as Woody Hoyt was gone.

But the man he knew as Woody was still there. That heart still beat in his chest. The man that loved justice, lived for the good guys winning, and fought for the underdog was still there.

The man that loved Jordan Marie Cavanaugh Hoyt was still alive and breathing.

"So what are you going to do now?" Brannigan asked Woody, watching him adjust his tie in the mirror of the hospital room. "Are you going to go back to Boston or what?" Woody's facial reconstruction had been so extensive that almost no one from his past would recognize him. Brannigan had jokingly told Woody that since he had literally been brought back from the dead, he had the ultimate chance to be reborn. Become a new person, start completely over. To Brannigan's amazement, Woody was genuinely considering taking him up on the offer.

"Were you serious about getting me a new identity?" Woody asked.

"Sure…I can make you a new person…new social security number…new history…whatever you need." Because Brannigan was with Sunny D, he had almost unparalleled access to databases and resources to create Woody a new identity.

"That's what I want…at least for a while…until I can get used to this," he gestured to his face. "I look like a stranger…make me a stranger."

"What about Jordan?" Brannigan quietly asked. He knew that Woody still loved her…in his fever-induced deliriums Woody had continuously asked for her. Brannigan came close to picking up the phone and calling her several times. If Woody hadn't made him swear that no matter what happened, Jordan would not be notified, he would have.

"I've got to get used to this ….this…. new me before I can let anyone else get used to it. Let me adjust….then I'll let her know."

"So…what if she finds someone else during this time…how are you going to keep up with her?"

Woody smiled. "Make me a new police officer…one with a past that closely mirrors my own…and I'll apply for a job with the Boston PD. That way, I can keep up with Jordan…judge how well she's adjusting…and get used to my new face."

"She's going to be mad as hell when she finds out. I've heard her grief is no better than it was last year at this time."

Woody sighed. He had long contemplated the wrath of the lady. Brannigan had told him in no uncertain terms that her sorrow was monumental. He had a feeling her anger over this may be even greater. "I know. I'll explain it to her. Hopefully, she'll have it in that heart of hers to forgive me and take me back."

Brannigan nodded. "Come on. Let's go back to my apartment. Give me two days….and you'll be a new person."

**Two Weeks Later**

Woody surveyed his new, furnished apartment. He liked it. It was small and inexpensive.

Best of all, it was less than a half mile from where Jordan lived. He had flown into Boston three days after he left the hospital. He had gone for an interview….an awkward process. He kept seeing friends and people he knew and couldn't greet them. Annie Capra. Lois Carver. Eddie Winslow. People he had worked closely with during his ten years with the Boston PD. None of them had so much flickered an eyelash at him…no one recognized him.

The interview itself had gone well. He was hired and given a couple of weeks to get settled before he started. Brannigan had made him a new man with a new past.

His name now was Charles Scott Williams. He was originally from Hanover, Maryland. Spent two years with the police department there, then went onto greener pastures with the New York City Police. He had been there the last ten years. Boston snapped him up in a heartbeat. Never married. No kids.

He was schooling himself to answer to his new name. He was preparing himself for how to react when he finally began to work with Jordan. He had yet to "meet" any of the ME staff yet, despite the fact he was hired as a homicide detective. He knew that was coming. He would be back working with Eddie Winslow tomorrow. Maybe he'd get lucky. Maybe at some point during the day, he'd at least catch a glimpse of his wife.

His wife. Now there was a term that passed through his thoughts daily, bur rarely across his lips. He imagined it was going to be difficult to see her and not reach out to her. Jordan was not a real "people" person. If he so much as tried to do anything more than help her around a crime scene, she'd tell him off. She didn't like to be touched by people she didn't know.

_Ah, and in that statement was the rub_, he thought. _She does know me….but won't realize it. And I know her…and can't let her know for a little while. It is going to be the hardest thing in the world not to tell her. But until I am comfortable with this….I can't. I need to accept it so I can help her accept it. Then we can move on from there. _

He got ready for bed, taking one more look in the mirror. He had grown a beard to cover some of the scarring. Eventually the scarring would fade and the beard could be shaved. It covered his one remaining dimple. His hair had a sleeker look…not the spiky mess that it was a year and a half a go. His bangs were longer and dipped down on his forehead…again to cover the scars. Every detail of his appearance was carefully crafted…the only two things that remained the same were his eyes and his taste in ties. He grinned. Jordan hated his ties. She had always gone out of her way each birthday, anniversary, Christmas…whatever holiday opportuned itself for a gift, to make sure he received a tasteful tie. Which he would wear, to make her happy. But he liked his ties. He liked it even more when she would take them off.

When he would come home from work, and she wasn't busy or involved in something else, she'd slowly loosen the tie…then unbutton the top two buttons of his shirt…loosen the tie some more and help him take it off over his head, pulling him down for a kiss at the same time. A nice way to start an evening. Woody sighed.

Seeing her was going to be difficult. Not reacting to her was going to be even harder. Not kissing her when he saw her was going to be the hardest of all.

* * *

"Hey, Jo…over here," Eddie Winslow called out. Jordan walked over to the homicide detective, ME case in hand. "The body's down there…" he point to a small ravine just off the road. "Need some help getting down there?"

"No. Thanks, anyway. How's it going, Eddie?"

"Good. Breaking in a new guy today."

"Rookie?"

"No…no. He was with the Hanover, Maryland PD for two years, then with the New York PD for ten.."

"Wow. What brings him to Boston after New York?"

"Said he wanted a little slower pace. I understand he got clipped a couple of times in New York."

"Oh. Well, that will certainly do it…make you want a change." She started to go down into the ravine.

"Hang on, Jo. I want you to meet him. He's doing a great job so far, and I'll probably be turning him loose in a week or so. You need to know him. Hey, Charles, over here."

Woody excused himself from one of the people he was questioning and made his way over to Eddie. He noticed Jordan. He had heard Eddie say she was the answering ME.

"Charles….this is Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh Hoyt, the assistant chief ME…..Jordan, this is Charles Williams," Eddie said, making the introductions.

Jordan looked up and nearly jumped out of her skin. His eyes….those eyes….she mentally shook herself, scolding her mind for playing games with her. Woody had the same color eyes. She didn't think anyone else could have that same type of intense blue eyes – the color of an ocean after a storm. Evidently, the color may be more common than she thought.

"Look, Charles….I'm going to head back to the office," Eddie continued. "When you're through here, make sure Dr. Hoyt has everything she needs and help her back in the van. I'll see you at the precinct."

"Sure. No problem." He smiled at Jordan. She gave him an uneasy half-grin and made her way down into the small ravine, doing lavidity and liver temperature checks. Usually her work engrossed her….kept her full attention. Not this time. She kept a watch out of the corner of her eyes on the new guy…Charles.

Jordan didn't like change. She worked with a variety of detectives…but never particularly liked new ones…they were…well…..ignorant and sometimes arrogant. Since Charles had some experience under his belt, maybe he'd be different. She could only pray.

Finally, after an hour or so, he made his way down the ravine to where she was at, helping secure the body in a bag on the gurney. Gently placing his hand on her back to get her attention, he asked, "What else do you need me to do?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin again. It was as if his touch sent shocks through her system. And usually she didn't like strangers touching her. But Charles was….different. For some reason. _Must be the eyes,_ she thought. _They remind me of him…of Woody_. Between this man's eyes, touch, and the smell of his aftershave, Jordan was beginning to feel like she had been dropped in the twilight zone.

Maybe it was his eyes…maybe it was his cologne…maybe it was the feel of his hand.

Or maybe it was simply the fact that no man, save her father, had touched her in anyway in nearly two years. She chalked it up to loneliness and a love-starved life and shrugged it off.

"No. Thanks, but I've got it. I'll get him back to the morgue and start trace. I'll have some preliminary reports to you and Eddie this afternoon. The full reports will be in tomorrow late afternoon or early evening. Is that okay."

Woody nodded. "Sure. It's fine. Look forward to hearing from you Dr. Hoyt," he said, as he took her hand and helped her up the incline from the ravine.

Jordan took one more look at him before she drove off from the scene. He was a handsome man…then shook herself. What was she thinking? Just because a pair of blue eyes had rattled her nerves didn't mean anything…

Did it?


	16. Her Ragged Edge of Nowhere

**Chapter Sixteen**

She couldn't shake the feeling that she knew him…from somewhere and at sometime.

In the span of a few weeks, they had worked several cases together, and for some reason, she felt as if she _knew_ him and he knew her. Charles had begun requesting her if she was on duty during one of his calls. Not that this was very different from some of the other detectives. Eddie Winslow was the same way. If Jordan was on duty when Eddie received a homicide call, he also would request Jordan.

But Charles was different. Jordan couldn't put her finger on it…but it was if they had worked together before. Garret had even noticed it and approached Jordan about it. "I don't know what is, Garret," she had replied. "I just feel like I know him and he knows me. He must have been a good detective in New York and worked with a lot of ME's. He certainly knows how we think," she said, shrugging off his inquiries.

"I believe he knows how _you_ think," was Garret's reply, raising an eyebrow.

Jordan shrugged that off, too.

Finally, one afternoon after they both had been out on a call, Charles asked her out to lunch. "Would you go with me?" he had asked. "I hate to eat alone…"

Jordan had swallowed hard and nodded. She hadn't had lunch with anyone other than the immediate males in her life in a long time. But she felt comfortable with Charles. Safe. After they were seated and their orders taken, she slowly stirred her tea with the straw the waitress put in it, and asked. "So….Charles….I hear you're originally from Hanover, Maryland and then from New York…what happened in between there?"

Woody looked at her for a beat. It was both pain and pleasure to be with her…he had to be so careful about what he said, not tipping his hand about what was going on. Yet he had to remain casually confident. It was a difficult tightrope to walk…a constant balancing act. Taking a deep breath and making lots of mental notes so he wouldn't trip himself up in the future, he began. "Not a lot to tell, really. I was born and raised in Hanover. When I graduated from the academy there, I stayed. I was young. As I got older, I wanted to see new places…meet new people…open myself up to other challenges. So I applied with the NYPD and was hired. Spent the better part of 10 years there…took it a couple of times…once in the leg. The second time was in the shoulder…a little too close for comfort. I still wanted to be a cop, but somewhere not quite as…hectic. Boston was hiring, so here I am. Not married, no kids. What about you, Jordan?"

"Well, I started out as a heart surgeon." His look of amazement caught her off guard. She chuckled. "I did. I started out working on beating hearts…now I work on non-beating ones. I met Garret and through a series of events, got really interesting in what medical examiners do. My dad was a cop, so the investigation side of it really got my attention. I worked in Boston to begin with…then I kind of bounced around. Atlanta. Denver. LA. Then back to Boston about ten years ago."

"Are you married? Engaged?" he asked, keeping his eyes averted from her face for a moment.

Jordan swallowed hard again. "Single," she replied. Her voice had a wavering edge to it that Woody caught immediately. Widowhood was not something that was lying easily around her. She still couldn't bring herself to wear that title. She had learned from experience to be careful who she admitted her real marital status to. It seems some men thought that since she was a young widow, she only needed comforting one way…. She looked out the window for a minute to compose herself. Woody caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Oh. Yeah. Sure." Their food arrived and personal topics were forgotten as they ate their meal and talked about the case they were out on this morning. Afterwards, Woody walked her out to her van. She turned and looked up at him…into his eyes…that completely undid her composure every time she gazed into them. She made herself voice her thoughts. "I'll let you know when I'm through with trace…" she began.

"That's fine, Jordan," Woody said, interrupting. "Just…look…if you need me, will you call me?" He pulled out one of his business cards, flipped it over, and wrote his personal cell phone number on the back. "You seemed a little down in the diner. So if you need to talk…" he stopped himself before he pushed a stray curl behind her ear.

Normally Jordan would have bristled under such a comment from someone she barely knew. But Charles was different. "Thanks," she said, taking the small piece of paper from his hand…their fingers brushed and she felt the tingles.

"I mean it, Jo," he said, watching her get in her van and drive off.

That was the difficult thing he had done in his life. Watch his wife deal with her widowhood status and nearly lose it right in front of his eyes. He needed to tell her soon. He was adjusting to the "new" Woody. But judging by her fragile state, he would need to ease her into the truth. He just needed the appropriate opportunity. And given the balance between time and odds, that would happen.

And it did…a few days later. Jordan had the day off, but had a file that Woody needed for a case he and Eddie were working on. The file was with her and she was at their home. With his heart nearly beating out of his chest, he drove over to their home, and holding his breath, he knocked on their door.

Jordan answered it nearly immediately, surprise written all over her face. "Um…I need to look at the Trogdon file," he stammered. "I'm trying to close the case today."

"Yeah. Come in and I'll get it for you. How'd you find out where I live?"

She had him there.

Thinking quickly, he lied. "Peter gave me directions….he's told me you probably had the file."

Jordan nodded, motioning him inside. "Hang on, I'll get it for you." She ran up the stairs to their guest bedroom. Woody took advantage of the opportunity to look around.

And it looked as if he had never left. His antique robots were in the living room. His jacket was still on the coat rack. A quick peak in the master bedroom revealed his badge was still on the dresser. He found his original spot in the entrance way before Jordan made her way downstairs again. Jokingly, he said. "Hey, I thought you said you weren't married….it sure looks like a man lives here."

And watched in total dismay as she completely broke down. She took a deep breath to give him an answer and the reality of her situation overwhelmed her -- again. Whether it was because this man with the same color blue eyes as her husband was in her living room, or whether it was because he wore Woody's cologne, she didn't know. She just dissolved in tears, covering her face and sobbing.

His arms immediately went around her. "Jordan….I'm sorry….I didn't mean to make you cry. What is it?"

"I'm a widow, Charles," she nearly choked on the admission. "My husband is dead."

Woody opened his mouth to contradict her, but Jordan's wall was down and she needed to talk. "He…he…was a homicide detective with the Boston PD. He died in an automobile accident…his car was completely incinerated. They couldn't even recover enough of him to bury. I think they hired you to take his place."

"Jordan…."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have broken down like this in front of you….it's been a long time since I've broken down in front of anyone about it…except Garret and my dad. They kind of expect it from me….I'm sorry….it's just that…with you taking his place with the police department and…well…you have the same color eyes that Woody did. That was his name….Woody Hoyt."

"Jordan…I'm so sorry…so very sorry…." He began to tell her the truth when his cell phone rang. It was Eddie. They had found a body off the wharf. He had to go. "Jo….I have to go…Eddie…" He felt her nod against his shoulder. He cursed cell phones….their convenient inconvenience. Muttering a heartfelt "damn" under his breath, he gently eased her out of his arms. She was really in no state to be left alone. Gently wiping her tears away with the pads of his thumb, he asked the inane question, "Will you be okay?"

She nodded and he felt her straighten her spine. "Yeah. I will be. I'll be fine. You go. You have to…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything…..at least on this level."

He reluctantly set her from him and opened the front door. "I'll call you later to check on you, Jo. Just…anyway….I'm here…call me if you need me before tonight." And he was gone.

Jordan quietly shut the door behind him, now grieving not only the loss of her husband, but feeling the loss of the warmth from Charles' body. Did she even have a right to feel that loss? Of either man? The guilt she still felt over Woody's death was unfathomable. The attraction she was feeling to Charles was still forbidden for her, at least in her own mind.

She still felt like he knew her too well. His compassion and tenderness this afternoon had poured healing on a sore spot in her soul with the mere touch of his hand. She didn't feel quite whole again, but at least she no longer felt like she was living on the ragged edge of nowhere by herself.


	17. El Cerrito Place

**Chapter Seventeen**

**A/N – Not only do I not own Crossing Jordan, I also don't own _El Cerrito Place_ as sung by Charlie Robison. Damn fine song. Damn fine singer. **

He cursed himself all the way to the wharf and then back to his office that afternoon. He cursed himself and the actions that he initially took that brought all this about. If he had only gone and talked to her instead of filing for divorce. If only he had stopped in Phoenix and gotten a hotel room instead of beginning the trip back to Boston. _If only…if only…._ Then they would not be in this mess. Jordan…his wife…would not be in such a fragile emotional state.

He would have told her the truth tonight if his cell phone had not rung. Seeing her emotionally melt down in front of him hurt him more than any of the surgery, therapy, or grafts he had gone through. Those hurt simply his body.

Seeing her in such pain hurt his soul.

Every morning when he looked in the mirror, he saw more of himself. It had taken him a while to get used to his "new" face, but he was adjusting. More and more of the "old" man was showing through, despite the differences between the two faces. He was sure that was what Jordan was reacting to, despite the fact she wasn't cognitively aware of it. She was responding to Woody, not Charles and it was confusing the hell out of her. He could tell by the look in those whiskey-colored eyes.

And that was adding to the fragility of her emotional state. He needed to tell her the truth. He wanted to. He just wasn't sure how she would react. He needed to make sure she was comfortable with him as Charles first before he revealed he was Woody. Judging by her actions today, that may take a while. He groaned to himself. He wasn't sure if he could wait that long. Holding her this afternoon was long, slow torture. He wanted so badly to tell her and then just hold her the rest of the afternoon…answer all her questions…and love her when she had all the answers she wanted.

Since he couldn't do that just yet, he vowed to do the next best thing. He would look after her...take care of her, until he could reveal everything to her.

* * *

"Hey, wait … Jordan," he called out to her quickly retreating back.

"Charles…." She turned and greeted him. She had thought that things might be awkward between the two of them after her break down in front of him at her house. He had gone out of his way to ease the tension.

"Quitting time?"

"Yeah."

"Then let me walk you out to your car."

"Charles…it's broad daylight…nothing is going to happen to me."

"You never know. It would make me feel better. Please?"

"Since you said 'please', I guess it's okay," she said, rolling her eyes at him. She nearly chuckled at him. It had been a long time since someone cared enough about her to walk her out to her vehicle and make sure she was safe…but Charles was seemingly making up for that lost time. He had walked her out nearly every night for the past two weeks. Garret had even noticed and began ribbing Jordan about her "own personal body guard."

"Are you going home, Jordan Marie?" he asked. Charles was the only person she would allow to call her by her first and middle names. Anyone else she'd verbally abuse.

"No…actually, believe it or not, I have plans tonight."

Woody drew in a sharp breath, feeling the ground shift beneath his feet. She had every right…she thought she was a widow. She could logistically see other men now.

"My father owns a bar," she continued, "but he's asked me to cover for him tonight…it's his anniversary, so I'm headed down to the Pogue to play bar wench until about midnight."

He grinned. "That doesn't sound exciting…"

"Well…depending on the crowd, it can be. I'm praying for a quiet night. It's been a long week."

"I know what you mean. Mind if I come by?"

"No. Of course not. Do you know where it's at?"

He nodded. "I may see you around ten or so." He shut her door and watched her drive off. The Pogue. Drinks. Dancing. It would seem like old times, at least to him. He remembered the last time she had told him she had to tend the bar for her dad…when Max was on his honeymoon. Woody didn't even bother to show up any of the nights Jordan had worked late. He had either worked or stayed home…looking at the situation as just one more obstacle in their already turbulent marriage.

He should have been there every night, helped her close, and then danced with her. Held her. Tightly. Woody shook his head. He'd try to fix everything tonight – after he helped her close, he'd insist they dance. And then he would tell her…everything.

* * *

She saw him when he came through the doors of the bar, shortly after ten. She tried to deny to herself that she was glad to see him. She ignored the tiny voice in the back of her mind that kept warning her to be careful. _He's a friend, co-worker, and nothing else. Nothing. How can I even think such thoughts when I've only been a widow two years?_

_Time marches on_, said the practical side of Jordan. _Woody wouldn't want you to be alone…_She mentally shook her head. It was hard to imagine herself with anyone but Woody. He had been the center of her universe for so long. It was difficult to conceive of another man kissing her or touching her…she had tried…and her mind couldn't go there.

Until she met Charles. She couldn't refute the fact that she was attracted to this man who somehow seemed to know her. She couldn't rebuff his tenderness and compassion to her…she had other people's…after Woody had died. She didn't want their pity…just their understanding.

But Charles was different. There was no pity in his touch or his words. Just kindness and mercy – something she needed badly in her life.

"Hi," he said, greeting her. He purposely did not choose the bar stool he used to sit at regularly at the Pogue. "How's the evening?"

"Fairly slow to be a Friday night. No fights…just people trying to wind down after a hard week. What can I get you?"

"Guinness?"

Jordan set the beer in front of him. "So what have you been up to since I saw you last?"

"Typical Friday stuff. A little laundry, some grocery shopping…."

"You cook?"

"Cook and clean….even been known to iron."

"You'll make someone a wonderful wife one day," Jordan said, joking with him. But soon other bar patrons claimed her attention and she didn't have much time with Charles until nearly closing time, when she rang the bell. The patrons settled their bills and went out into the cold, dark Boston night.

"Can I stay and help you close?"

"Do you really want to? It's not much fun…."

"Yeah…just tell me what to do."

Jordan directed him on how to wipe down the tables and sweep while she settled the register and locked the front door. When it was all over, he handed her his apron and bar towel. "I was wondering….we didn't get a chance to talk much tonight….I was wondering if you would dance with me…just a couple of times before we have to leave?" He held out his hand.

Jordan caught her breath. The gesture was so familiar…Woody had done it countless times to her…told her not to say anything, just dance with him, and he would hold out his hand. She would put her much smaller hand in his and feel his strength as he would grip it and swing her into his arms. For a moment Charles' face blurred with the one of her husband's…then she snapped herself out of it.

"Sure…I'd love to."

He dropped the change into the jukebox and chose a new song…a bluesy-country mix Jordan hadn't heard before. It was Charlie Robison's _El Cerrito Place_…the melancholy chords soon echoed through the bar.

_I've been hanging 'round this place_

_I've been looking through your space_

_I've been waiting for you_

_I've been waiting for you_

_All the places you would go_

_All the people that you know_

_I've been looking for you_

_I've been looking for you_

Woody pulled Jordan just a little closer in his arms. She didn't resist…

_And all them pretty people_

_Up on El Cerrito place_

_They all got something in their pockets_

_All got something on their face_

_They rolled down to La Brea_

_Where it meets the boulevard_

_Singing hallelujah _

_While they dance over the stars_

_They all think they're going far_

_Me -- I've been looking for you baby_

_I've been looking for you baby _

_I've been looking for you baby_

_I've been looking for you baby_

_All night long_

_All night long _

_All night long_

He spun her out and then pulled her back to him again. "What have you been looking for, Jordan?" he softly whispered in her ear. She looked up at him, a startled expression in her eyes.

_Somebody said they might have seen you_

_Where the ocean meets the land_

_So I've been out here all night looking _

_For your footprints in the sand_

_Did you hear the ocean singing?_

_Baby, did you sing along?_

_As you danced over the water_

_To some old forgotten song_

_Were you even here at all?_

_Me -- I've been looking for you baby_

_I've been looking for you baby _

_I've been looking for you baby_

_I've been looking for you baby_

_All night long_

_All night long _

_All night long_

"I'm not sure…what makes you ask? And what are you looking for Charles?" she replied in an equally low voice.

_Somehow I wound up in the desert_

_Just after daylight_

_There's a Joshua tree growing_

_At that little place you always liked_

_These pioneer town people_

_Ain't got too much to say_

_And if they might have seen you_

_They ain't giving you away_

_And now it's been two days._

_Me -- I've been looking for you baby_

_I've been looking for you baby _

_I've been looking for you baby_

_I've been looking for you baby_

_All night long_

_All night long _

_All night long_

"I think I've spent a great deal of my time lately looking for you, Jordan Marie Cavanaugh Hoyt."

_I think I'll go back to the city_

_Back to El Cerrito place_

_That's the last time that I saw _

_That pretty smile upon your face_

_I've been looking for you baby._

Jordan stood still in his arms as the song ended. Charles was a wonderful man. Warm. Caring. Strong. She felt as safe with him as she had….Woody.

Woody watched the emotions dance over his wife's face, finally noting the last one was pure turmoil….she was reacting to him as if he was still Woody, but thinking in her mind he was Charles. The look of sheer pain nearly brought him to his knees. Without a second thought, he gently cupped her face, tilted her head back, and brought his lips down on hers. He didn't hesitate, didn't think about doing anything else…this was what he had wanted to do since he first saw her when he arrived back in Boston.

For a moment, Jordan relaxed in his arms…feeling that familiar feeling wash over her…For a moment, time had been turned back…he was back with her…and it was like old times….his lips were on hers, soft and loving. A shiver went up her spine…she knew that this kiss would lead to…

Then it hit her.

This wasn't Woody.

This was Charles.

Abruptly, she pulled away from him and found herself on the other side of the bar, near the self-locking back door.

"Jordan?" Now was the time. He needed to tell her. He walked over to her, only to find her trembling. She held up a hand to stop him.

"No. I'm sorry Charles. I shouldn't have let you kiss me…I shouldn't have danced with you. It's wrong…all so wrong. On several levels. First, I renewed a promise I made to myself years ago after I came back from Boston – I won't date coworkers. I've done it twice and both times I ended up getting hurt. The first time, I dated a man named Nigel Townsend. We worked together at the morgue. I don't think I loved him, but it nearly brought a friendship down in flames. It took us years to rebuild that relationship.

"The second time I dated a coworker, I did fall in love…lost my heart completely to a man named Woodrow Wilson Hoyt. My husband. I still love him. I always will…what I felt for him you don't forget or get over easily. And if I had fought harder for our marriage, I would still have him with me."

"Jordan…" he began. She held up her hand again to stop him.

"And secondly, I know this may sound totally off-base to you, but you remind me of him…your eyes…your cologne….your touch. I don't know if I'm responding to you….or to my memories of Woody. And until I'm certain I'm not trying to substitute someone for him, I can't let myself fall in love with anyone."

And with that she turned on her heel and walked out the back door.


	18. Is Going to be Fine?

**Chapter Eighteen**

Jordan coped with the inner turmoil in her life the same way she always had. She worked. All hours. All shifts. Doubles. Rotation. Weekends. And as much as she could, she dodged Charles' calls.

Woody knew what she was doing…this was his wife's defense mechanism. It always had been…get lost in your work and maybe everything else will work out on its own without your input. Only now, it wouldn't. He let her continue this behavior until he decided she had dodged his calls one too many times. Finally, he showed up at the door of their home one Friday afternoon. Propping himself up against the door jam after she had answered his knock, he quietly said, "I don't see how you're even going to go on with your life…meet someone else, when all you do is work. And if all you want to do is work, and you won't date coworkers, you've really got yourself over a barrel, Jordan Marie."

She stepped aside to let him in. "So…what are you now, a psychiatrist that makes house calls?" She walked into the living room, her back to him.

He smiled grimly and shut the door behind him. "No. Just someone that cares about you very much."

"You shouldn't."

"Shouldn't what?"

"Care about me."

Woody raised his eyebrows. "Why not?"

"I don't deserve it."

Woody walked over to her and turned her around. Unshed tears were shining bright in her eyes. "Sweetheart, what makes you think you don't deserve someone caring about you?"

"If it weren't for me…my husband would still be alive. You see, I had started putting things …work…people, before him. After a while, he got tired of it … of waiting for me to have time for him. He filed for divorce. I kind of lost it…resigned from the morgue here and ran away to Phoenix to work for a while. Woody followed me out there eventually. He came to talk to me one night about reconciling…getting back together…and I told him the divorce was up to him…I wouldn't file, but neither would I contest it. He left that night and began to drive back to Boston….that was when he wrecked. If I had told him what my heart really felt…that I loved him and I was sorry….he'd still be with me. He would have stayed with me that night instead of driving down that highway.

You're a wonderful man, Charles. Warm. Caring. Loving. Strong. But I don't deserve you. I don't deserve anyone. I'm not sure I'm capable of really loving anyone…."

Woody cut her off then, pulling her into his arms. Not capable of loving? Jordan? He had felt her compassion more times than he could count during their time together. Her gentle touch…the sweetness of her spirit beneath her tough exterior. "That's not true, Jordan…so not true…" He saw the tears on her cheeks. He gently wiped them away with the tip of a finger…and before he could stop himself, he was kissing her.

And she responded. She wasn't sure why…whether it was because it had been so long since a man had touched her the way Charles was doing now…or if it was because somewhere in her mind the images of Charles and Woody were still merging….Woody, with his dimpled grin and crystalline blue eyes…Charles, with his intense blue eyes, and soft, shy smile behind his beard. Whatever it was, for tonight at least, she wasn't going to let it matter. When he made a move to break the kiss, she snaked her hand around to the back of his head and pulled him in for a deeper one.

_Sweet Jesus_, was all that went through Woody's mind. The months melted away for him…all the time he had worried about her…longed for her…wondered if things could get back to normal with them…it all left him as he got caught up in her kiss, which was growing more intense with each passing minute. Feeling the need to breathe, he broke the kiss, only to allow his lips to begin to travel over her face. He became intent on kissing her senseless.

And he knew what would happen when he did. She'd melt…straight into his arms…holding on to his shoulders for support as she gave him back kiss for kiss…until he moved his lips to that sweet curve in her neck…and then the softness of her shoulder. Her head would go back then, allowing him better access to her throat….he'd skate his mouth down it to that hollow in the base of her neck.

He'd kiss her lips again, then. And regaining some of her ground, she'd softly run her hands down his chest, then back up to begin unbuttoning his shirt, kissing him where each button released from the fabric, until his shirt was completely open and his skin was flushing. He'd return the favor, gently stroking the tender underside of her breast with his thumb. She'd arch against him then, and moan.

It would be all over then. Impatiently, they'd end up undressing each other with little regard to where the clothes would land. He had lived for the feel of her against him again. He would lay her down, smooth back her hair and kiss her again, stroking and caressing her as he did so. She would return the favor…she had the softest touch he had ever known. Finally, feeling the grind of her hips against his, he'd enter her…slowly…judging her reaction…seeing just how ready she was…

That would be how it would go…he knew it. That was where things were heading…and she knew it, too. So it didn't surprise him when she pulled away and took a shaky breath. "Charles," she said softly, "this has got to stop. I can't go there…I'm not ready yet. I mean, I don't even have any…" Woody could have sworn he saw her blush. He hugged her to him again.

"So you won't date coworkers? Then what are we supposed to do about this, Jordan? Ignore it?"

She looked at him, her whiskey-colored eyes big in her face and her lips soft from his kisses. "I don't know…I just simply don't know…if it would be fair for you or for me."

Woody thought for a minute. "I respect how you feel, Jordan. I understand your feelings about dating coworkers…and becoming intimately involved with someone right now. I really do. And I'm willing to give you time. But I would like to take you out one time…on a real date, before I let you and time decide the outcome of our relationship…okay?"

She slowly nodded. That seemed fair – at least it would be fair to him. "Okay…when?" Despite her words, she was reluctant to move out of the warmth and security of his arms.

"Tomorrow night. Wear a nice dress. I'll pick you up at seven." He pulled her to him one more time and dropped a chaste kiss on the top of her head. "Meanwhile…don't worry too much sweetheart. Everything's going to be fine….more than fine."


	19. The Truth Bites

**Chapter Nineteen**

She had redone her hair three times, finally deciding on letting it go naturally wavy, falling down past her shoulders. She faired better with her make up….she only redid her eyes twice. Then she nervously got dressed, putting on barely there underwear and then sliding into a new black dress she had bought on a whim for herself at Christmas. It clung to her in all the right places, was off the shoulders and had long sleeves. And everything was working well, except for the fact that she couldn't get the back zipped up all the way. She struggled and struggled.

A knock at the door brought her out of her contortions. "Come in….the door's open," she called out to Charles.

"Jordan? Where are you at?" he said, not seeing her in the living room.

"In here…the back bedroom."

"Waiting for me in the bedroom all ready? Gee, and we haven't even had dinner yet…" he teased.

"Goof. I can't get my dressed zipped up."

He watched her struggle for a minute, observing her from the doorway. "Need some help?"

"If you want to eat tonight, I do."

He walked over and stood behind her, slowly zipping her dress up the back, letting his fingers linger just a little too long on her skin…she felt the sparks his fingers left along her spine. Shutting her eyes, she wished for an instant he was taking the dress off of her instead of helping her put it on. Jordan had never been more conflicted in her life…she still loved Woody, but this man – Charles – touched her soul. He was willing to give her time…but how much time would it take?

"Ready to go?" he asked, after he was through, gently pulling her back against him.

"Yeah. Let me get my coat." Even to her, she sounded breathless.

She got through dinner without melting under his gaze. She couldn't remember what she ate…but she remembered she had three glasses of wine. They talked about everything…but them…the tension in the air.

Woody knew she was nervous…and he knew what was going on in her head…the need to still remain loyal to her husband while dealing with the new feelings she had for "Charles." He was going out of his way to ease her tensions…especially knowing what he was going to tell her tonight. He took her home and walked her to the door. "May I come in?" he asked. "Just for a few minutes…I need to talk to you, and it won't take long."

Jordan opened the door and they both walked in. Now was the time. This was when they were going to draw the boundaries for their relationship. Her problem was, she wasn't sure quite how she felt about whom….Charles or Woody. "Charles…." She began.

"No. Jordan. Before you start, I wanted to talk to you about a case I'm on."

"A case?" she asked. With everything between them, he wanted to talk about a case?

"Yeah. I need you to tell me what I need to do with this…" He pulled something from his pocket, took her hand, and placed it in her palm. She looked at it and blinked. It didn't go away. She felt like all the breath had been sucked out of her lungs…all the oxygen went out of the room. Jordan had never fainted…not once in her life…but she was on the verge.

It was Woody's wedding ring.

She looked at Charles and then at the ring…and then back at Charles, not understanding…then trying to understand… "How…" was the first thing out of her mouth. How did Charles get Woody's wedding ring…He had it on when he visited her in Phoenix. His body had been completely incinerated…the ring must have melted in the wreck…unless. The realization began to dawn on her confused mind. "No," she said backing away from him. "No. It can't be…you can't…" she kept walking backwards until she hit a wall. Woody followed her.

"Yes, Jordan. It's me…I swear."

She shook her head in disbelief. "No….you're dead. Nigel said so…he signed your death certificate. Nigel wouldn't lie to me…not about this."

"Not if he didn't know. It's a long story, Jo. My car didn't blow up immediately. I got out and was trying to help the others out of their cars when the explosion happened. I was blown yards away from the wreck. But I suffered third degree burns over about sixty percent of my body. I was in the hospital for months…over a year. Therapy. Skin grafts. Reconstructive surgery. I took most of the blast head on. There wasn't a lot of me left for the plastic surgeon to work with. That's why I don't look anything like I used to. Underneath this beard, I have one dimple left…but little else you'd remember. But here," he pointed to his heart, "is the same man you married. The same man that loves you. The same man you fell in love with. The same man you're in love with now."

Jordan still was shaking her head. "No. It can't be. I saw pictures. No one survived that blast."

"I did. Will this help you believe me?" He loosened his tie and took it off. Then he unbuttoned his shirt. "See that?" He pointed to a birthmark on his chest, right above his waistline.

She still wasn't buying it. "No…but ….no…." She was shaking her head and trembling.

"Then how about this? Your mother's name was Emily. You spent most of your adult life looking for her murderer. Your favorite color is pink. You have a poster of the Indigo Girls in the laundry room. They're one of your favorite groups. We first met a bank robbery scene and you hated my ties. We first kissed in the California desert and then you wouldn't kiss me again for a very long time. You're ticklish on your ribs. You have a birthmark on your upper thigh and the sweetest little mole on your…." She stopped him. "That's enough." She put a shaky hand on his face, as if to brush the beard aside and see him…as he was….and as he is now. "Woody…" she finally breathed out.

He watched as emotion after emotion chased each other across her face. He didn't know what she was going to do…fling her arms around his neck, or ask him more questions.

But what happened next completely threw him off guard.

"Get out."

"Jordan?"

"You heard me. Get out."

"But…"

"The Woody I knew wouldn't have done this to me. He would have called or had someone call me when he regained consciousness. He wouldn't have made me wait. He wouldn't have made be deal with being a widow. He wouldn't have let me continue to grieve so hard that I didn't know if I was going to be able to take my next breath. He wouldn't have done this to me because he loved me.

"You're not Woody. I don't know why I thought you reminded me of him…you're nothing like him…I don't know where you got that ring…how you knew…but I don't appreciate it. Not a bit. Playing on my emotions like this.

"So…get out. Please. Now."

"But Jordan…."

"You heard me. GET OUT!" The force of the last phrase took the wind out of him. Looking at her face, he knew she was close to an emotional meltdown…she didn't need to be alone, but she obviously didn't need him. He swallowed hard.

"Okay, Jordan. I'll leave. But you're going to have questions…and I have the answers. So when you're ready…let me know." He walked to the door. Opening it, he paused before he left, looking at her one more time. She was still standing with hers back to the wall…looking at the ring he left in her hand, tears running down her face. He wanted to go back over to her … hold her…reassure her that it was really him and everything was going to be okay. "Jordan?" he asked one more time.

"Just…please…go."


	20. Questions Answered

**Chapter Twenty**

Jordan passed the next few days in a fog. Her body may have been present, but her mind was elsewhere. Charles….Woody….made it a point to stay away from her during this time. She saw him from a distance, and he saw her, but neither made an attempt to talk with each other. Her emotions were still in an uproar…still trying to figure things out. Her work didn't suffer. If anything, she poured herself into it at an even more dedicated pace. But she wasn't herself…she was quieter, more withdrawn…the most introverted she had been since she was declared a widow.

Woody noticed it and was worried. He finally pinned her down in trace on afternoon…it was just her and him in the room. Everyone else had gone home. "What's it going to take, Jordan?" he asked. "What's it going to take for you to believe me?"

She looked at the man…with the blue eyes…who claimed he was Woody. He knew things about her that only Woody would…her birthmark….the mole. Her mind was still in turmoil…her heart and soul wanted him to be her husband so much…But Woody wouldn't have done this to her…

Unless he thought that maybe she had moved on with her life and had accepted his death. Then he wouldn't have come back to interrupt it. Or if he had thought that on some level, he may be an invalid and didn't want to burden her. She walked over to him and looked up into those eyes that could still be her undoing. "I want to believe you…I really do. You have no idea…if you really are Woody….how much I've missed you….how much I still love you. But…if you are who you say you are…I'm going to need more proof. Evidence. Forensic evidence. And you won't be offended by me asking for it."

He nodded, gazing down into her eyes. "I know, Jordan. I am Woody…I promise. I'll get you the evidence you need…that you deserve. Give me day or two, okay?"

She nodded as he left trace and headed for the elevators.

* * *

An incessant banging on the door and ringing of the doorbell woke Jordan out of a Saturday morning sleep. It was early, even for her, on a Saturday. Grabbing her robe, she opened the front door and was met by a man she had never seen before. "May I help you?" she asked, cautiously making sure that the storm door remained locked between herself and this stranger.

The man smiled at her. "I don't think you can help me, but I can help you." He held up a police shield. "My name is Peter Brannigan…and I'm with the LAPD. I'm a friend of Woody's. May I come in?" Woody had called him earlier in the week and begged him to come and talk to Jordan. It was the only tactic Woody knew that Jordan would believe….a witness that had proof.

Jordan opened the door and let him in. "Coffee?" she asked.

"That would be great. Better put on a full pot. This is going to take a while." He made himself comfortable in the kitchen while she brewed the coffee. When it was done, she put the cups, coffeepot, creamer, and sugar on a tray and set it on the table. Then she took a seat across from him.

"So how do you know Woody?" she asked.

"Met him when he came out to LA about a sheriff who had been killed and dropped out of a plane in Kewuanne."

Jordan smiled. "Sunny D."

Brannigan grinned. "Yeah. You don't know how close you came to losing him to us then. I wanted to keep him. But it seemed some medical examiner told him that his home was in Boston and she'd be there waiting for him."

Jordan looked down at her coffee cup. Sighing, she said, "So what's going on with Woody? Why are you here this early on a Saturday morning?"

"He called me a couple of days ago. Said he told you that this guy, Charles, was really him. And you had a hard time believing him. I don't blame you. He looks nothing like he did before the accident."

"That's the understatement of the year."

"Well, Charles is Woody, Jordan. I know. As soon as he regained consciousness in the LA burn unit, the he had the doctors call me. I came in and was totally shocked by his appearance….bandages everywhere…and when those came off, there wasn't a lot of him left. I watched him undergo painful therapy…he had to learn to walk again," he paused for a moment and took a packet of photos out of his pocket. "This is some of the stuff he had to go through."

Jordan looked through the stack of pictures with amazement… and horror. "Why didn't someone call me?"

"I tried to get him to…or let me call you, and he wouldn't hear of it. He didn't want to burden you….he was very, very sick and you know how burn victims can be….some days it's literally minute by minute with their recovery. I understand he flat-lined four times." He heard Jordan's sharp intake of breath.

"Yeah. The boy's a walking miracle. He didn't want to burden you and by the time we knew he was going to make it, he still had months of recovery ahead of him….more therapy, skin grafts, reconstructive surgery….he knew you'd hop a plane and be with him in a heartbeat and he felt like he had interrupted your life enough. That's why he wouldn't call you and or allow me to."

"But why did he come back to Boston as Charles Scott Williams….why not just tell me straight up who he was and what happened?"

"Would you have believed him? I mean, it's been a little over two years since he was declared dead. Would you have believed him, knowing how he looks now…nothing like the Woody you used to know? He wasn't sure what was going on with you…if you'd take him back or if maybe you had moved on with your life…and he was still adjusting to looking like a stranger. So he thought maybe a new identity would help him ease into his new look…and then he could help you adjust…if you wanted to."

"If I wanted to?"

"Do you, Jordan? He called out for you when his fever put him in deliriums. He still loves you."

She drew in a shaky breath. "I love him, too. I just had to know. I just had to know why…was he deliberately deceiving me for some reason….or was he just trying to help me accept him the way he is now."

"It's the latter. He never wanted to hurt you again. I'm sure of that. So now you know Jordan. What are you going to do?

She got up from the table and put her coffee cup in the sink. "I'm going to go talk to him…do you know where he lives? "

Brannigan chuckled and wrote the address on a napkin. "Here you go." He walked to the door, Jordan following him.

"Thanks, Peter. So much. You just cleared up a lot of questions."

Peter smiled at her. "My pleasure. Now….go get dressed and go see your husband."


	21. There's Nowhere Else I'd Rather Be

**Chapter Twenty-One**

She showered quickly and did her hair and make up. She wasn't sure what she was going to say when she saw him. What do you say in situations like this? After rehearsing speech after speech in her mind, she finally quit trying. She was going to his apartment, open her mouth, and let her heart speak. She threw some of her things in a bag and made her way to his apartment.

It was still early when she arrived. He may not even be up yet…tentatively, she knocked at his door. He didn't answer. She knocked again, harder this time. A minute later, he opened the door, dressed in his bathrobe. He had been in the shower. "Jordan?"

"Can I come in? Please?"

He pushed the door open and let her come in. Dressed in a pink shirt and matching skirt, she looked fresh and lovely, even if the look on her face told Woody her mental state was anything but peaceful. "Peter Brannigan came by to see me this morning," she began.

"He flew in already? He told me he would try to get here as soon…"

"He told me everything, Woody," Jordan interrupted. "Why did you decide to do it this way, Woody? Why? Didn't you realize how badly I'd miss you….how badly I'd grieve?"

He lowered his eyes. "I knew…but I didn't want to come back into your life as an injured man and you feel obligated to take care of me."

"It wouldn't have been an obligation…you know that."

"I didn't want to interrupt your life either…and being an invalid would do that. Likewise, if you had already moved on and found someone else."

"So after you got better and came back to Boston, why didn't you just tell me right away who you were and what happened?"

"Would you have believed me? I had to have time to get used to this new me, too. I knew once I adjusted to all these changes, I could help you adjust, too. That is if you wanted…want to."

She walked over to him, arms crossed defensively. "Oh, I want to…my God, Woody…I saw the pictures. What did you think I do?…." Her voice broke… "Woody… you nearly _did_ die…" It did break then and the tears began to fall down her cheeks. She reached for him….and he caught her up in his arms.

She wasn't sure how long they stood there…in each other's arms…just feeling thankful that they had each other again. Finally, he pulled back and took her face in his hands. "We have a second chance, Jordan…not many people get that."

"I know…" she reached up and gently stroked his beard. "I don't care what you look like…on the inside, you're the same man I met over ten years ago at a crime scene. I've missed you, Woody. So much…" She raised her lips then to meet his…and this time there was no conflict in her soul. This was her husband…this was Woody.

He kissed her softly at first, letting her set the pace…not knowing exactly where she was emotionally. When she brushed his bottom lip with her tongue, he knew. He deepened the kiss and felt her respond by brushing his bathrobe aside and running her hands down his chest. She broke the kiss to trail her lips down his neck and across his collar bone. He moaned. She chuckled. "Feel like taking your wife to bed?" she inquired.

"I thought you'd never ask…" keeping his arm around her waist, he led her to his bedroom and began to kiss her all over again….fumbling with the buttons on her blouse, then pushing it off her shoulders…sliding the zipper down on her skirt and letting it glide down over her hips. He laid her down on his bed and brushed her hair back with his hand… "Do you know how long I've wanted to do this?" he asked.

"I know how much I've missed you," she said, gravely, running her fingers through his hair, noting the scars on his forehead. She'd ask about those later…much later. Right now, he was kissing her again and she couldn't think straight. She never was able to rationalize when he was kissing her. She let her hands wander down to the tie on his bathrobe and loosened it, running her hands down him from his shoulders to his thighs. She pushed it off his shoulders and he paused long enough from his exploration of her body to shrug out of it.

He turned his attention to the front clasp of her bra then, undoing it and pushing it off. "You're still as beautiful as I remember," he whispered, gently gliding his hands down her body…They both spent endless moments just relearning each other's body…until finally neither one of them could wait any longer. She moaned against his lips and arched against him. He slowly filled her, knowing it had been over two years for her. She drew a sharp breath and looked into his eyes…now shining an intense blue at her. "Okay, sweetheart?" he asked. She nodded and arched against him again.

He loved her until she couldn't catch her breath again… until she felt her body tighten around his and felt his response. When it was over, she wrapped her arms around him and just held him close to her…feeling an indescribable thankfulness for just having him back with her. He finally rolled over on his back, taking her with him. "Jordan…" he said, still a little breathless. "Was it always like this?"

She grinned down at him mischievously. "Most of the time. Depended on how tired we were…remember those Friday nights in the hot tub?"

He groaned. Those were some of his favorite memories. "Yes…tell me we still have the hot tub."

"Yeah. We do. I just haven't filled it since I thought you were gone…didn't have the heart to."

She laced her fingers with his, and nestled her head on his chest. "So…how are we going to tell everyone … that you're not dead…you're very, very much alive?"

Woody shook his head. "I don't know. I haven't thought about it. My main concern was you…getting you adjusted to everything…"

She playfully moved against him. "I think I've adjusted just fine….thanks to your efforts."

"You're welcome," he replied grinning up at her.

"You know, Nigel and Ronnie are coming to Boston next week…we ought to wait until they're here to make the announcement. Especially since Nige signed your death certificate."

"Think you can keep calling me Charles for a few more days?"

"I think so… but I want you home. With me."

"That's not a problem. There's nowhere else I'd rather be."


	22. The Way Back Home

**Chapter Twenty-two**

Jordan knew that everyone else would probably not believe Charles was Woody anymore than she did unless they saw some hard forensic evidence. So she came up with a plan…and told it to Woody, who agreed. But they waited until Nigel and Ronnie came in from Phoenix.

Until then, Jordan and Woody kept up the premise of Charles. She had to be really careful not to call him Woody at work…or look at him with anything more than friendly affection in her eyes. She was always relieved when five o'clock came and they could go home….and go back to being a married couple. Woody had filled the hot tub. They didn't wait until Friday to enjoy it. She thank the powers that be everyday that Woody was back with her…and she wasn't about to let him go again.

Just one thing tickled the back of her mind. One night, before they got in the hot tub, she finally got up the nerve to ask, "What happened to the divorce, Woody?" He drew her to him and begin to untie the knot in the back of her bathing suit top, "I fed them down the garbage disposal."

"You did what?"

He grinned. "You heard me. I fed them down the garbage disposal…piece by piece."

"So we are still legally married?"

"Legally…and in every other way." He began to nibble at her earlobe and she didn't think about the papers again.

Nigel, Ronnie, and small Jordan came into the morgue on Thursday…and Jordan put her plan into play. Everyone was there to see them…and Woody watched with amusement as Jordan played with her namesake…totally taken with the baby. Finally, when things had calmed down just a modicum, Woody told Bug, "I need you to put me in the system…I was hired in such a hurry that I haven't had a chance to put my fingerprints or DNA in the computer. The chief wanted to know if you could put my prints in today…Jordan already pulled my DNA…but could you do the prints?"

Bug nodded…"I just need to get you to put your them on this." He handed Woody a fingerprint card. Woody followed the instructions and Bug scanned the fingerprints into the system.

Everyone was still talking and getting caught up until Bug said, "Sweet Mary Mother of God." And he turned to Woody with his mouth open. "You can't be." Woody grinned.

"What?" Peter asked. Bug seldom got rattled….and he obviously was now.

"It can't be," Bug said, running his fingers through his hair. "Nigel…come here a minute."

Nigel walked over to Bug's computer then whirled around to Woody. "No….I couldn't find you at the accident…you weren't anywhere…what…."

Woody laughed. "You didn't look too hard. I was blown out of the blast area…of course, they didn't know who I was for nearly two months…so no hard feelings…even though you did sign my death certificate. I hate to see the paperwork you're going to have to do to get that thing rescinded."

Garret looked at Nigel, then Bug, then back at Woody, who he still thought was Charles. "What is going on?"

Nigel turned to his former boss and said, "Charles isn't Charles. Charles is Woody…look…" he pointed to the computer screen. When Bug had scanned in "Charles'" fingerprint, it popped up as Woodrow Wilson Hoyt.

The room erupted into laughter….and lots of questions. Woody answered all of them as best he could. A lot of his medical history, he wasn't sure about. He was unconscious a good deal of the time. "How long have you known?" Garret asked Jordan, who was now holding her sleeping namesake on her shoulder.

"For sure….about a week. But remember, I always told you I felt like Charles knew me…that we had met somewhere before….and I was right."

Welcome back, son," Garret said, shaking Woody's hand. "What are you going to do now?"

"I have a couple of more minor grafts to go…and then…I think I'm going to ask a certain medical examiner if she wants to start a family…" he glanced at Jordan, who was still holding small Jordan.

* * *

Later that night, after everyone's curiosity had been satisfied and Woody and Jordan were in bed together, she rolled over on her side. Propping herself up on an elbow, so she could look her husband in the eyes, she gently stroked his beard, and said, "Have you any idea how much I love you?"

He snaked his arms around her and tugged her on top of him. "You could show me," he said suggestively.

"Hmmmm. Later. I need to ask you something."

"Okay…" he looked at his wife with dubious eyes. Something was on her mind.

"If you had made it back to Boston that night…hadn't been in the wreck…what were you going to do?"

"I had destroyed the divorce papers before that…"

"So?"

"Been back on your doorstep in Phoenix when your six months were up. Drag you kicking and screaming back to Boston if I had to…but you weren't getting away."

"What if I didn't want to come?"

"Then I would have followed you to wherever you ended up. If you wouldn't come with me, I'd stay with you."

Jordan absorbed this bit of information, now tracing his lips with her fingers. "We've wasted a lot of time….being so stubborn."

"It's my fault. I should have never had you served with divorce papers."

"And I should have stopped putting other things before us…I forgot how important 'us' was."

He drew her face down for a kiss and rolled her underneath him. "I'll make sure I remind you from now on."

"I don't think I'll need reminding. I believe I have learned my lesson."

Woody chuckled and began to kiss her again…along her neck and that sweet curve of her shoulder…all the way down to that sweet mole on her…..They both had learned their lesson the hard way…they had been to the ragged edge of nowhere…each thinking they were alone…and found their way back home and to each other.


End file.
